


Heart's Delight

by JennaSinclair



Series: Sharing the Sunlight (STS) [4]
Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-12-23 21:53:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 36,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11998689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JennaSinclair/pseuds/JennaSinclair
Summary: While on their first shoreleave together as lovers, Kirk and Spock visit an archaeological dig.





	Heart's Delight

**Author's Note:**

> "Heart's Delight" is the fourth entry in my Sharing the Sunlight series. Each work was written so that a reader could catch up with what is going on if they haven’t read the previous stories, but of course you’ll get a bit more if you read the series in order. I use the name Jenna Sinclair for this K/S series. I use Jenna Hilary Sinclair for all other fanfiction and my professional work.
> 
> Here's the series in chronological order:
> 
> 1\. Sharing the Sunlight (novel)  
> 2\. Reflections on a Lunar Landscape  
> 3\. Pursuing Hyacinths (novella)  
> 4\. Heart’s Delight (novella)  
> 5\. Primal Scream  
> 6\. Parallel Courses  
> 7\. Double Trouble  
> 8\. Son of Sarek (novella)  
> 9\. Promises to Keep (novel)  
> 10\. Jagged Edges  
> 11\. Manna  
> 12\. Journey’s End  
> 13\. One Night  
> 14\. In the Shade (novel)

CHAPTER ONE

 

"Bob, how are you?"

The image of Commodore Bob Wesley flickered on the viewscreen in Kirk's quarters, then firmed into the grey hair and craggy features that Kirk knew well. Uhura had done her usual excellent job of clearing subspace interference over the hundreds of parsecs that separated the _Enterprise_ from the Commodore's flagship, the _Lexington_.

"Jim, it's good to hear from you." Wesley leaned forward, folding his hands together. Like Kirk, he was seated behind his desk in his quarters. He added heartily, "I'm fine. Better than fine. Terrific."

Kirk's eyes twinkled at the uncharacteristic display of enthusiasm from his typically phlegmatic friend. "Yeah. I got the announcement. Congratulations. I never thought you'd take the plunge."

Wesley returned a rueful smile. "I didn't either. Jeanine caught me by surprise. Thought I was a confirmed bachelor, married to Starfleet. But...," he slowly shook his head, "it just seemed like the right thing to do." He shrugged, obviously self-conscious about the strong emotions that had led him to end his bachelor days.

"Well, I'm sorry I missed the wedding...," Kirk paused after that little witticism. The _Enterprise_ had been patrolling dangerous Orion space when Wesley and his Jeanine had been married on the _Lexington_ , "...but I'm looking forward to meeting your bride soon."

"You leave my new wife alone, Jim Kirk," Wesley said severely, hitching forward in his chair and pointing a finger. "I'm keeping Jeanine far away from you. You've got every other female in the galaxy at your feet; isn't that enough?"

Kirk grinned, not at all displeased by the backhanded compliment. "Bob," he protested happily, "you know I never horn in on friends!"

"Well," Wesley growled, "that's probably because you always have a gorgeous woman on your arm already. But no more of that for me." He leaned back in his chair and looked at Kirk gravely. "You should try it, Jim. The old saying's true. Nothing can compare with love. Marrying Jeanine was the best decision I've ever made."

Kirk shifted in his chair, uncomfortable with the suddenly personal turn their conversation had taken. He went ahead with his next comment anyway. After all, he had made this call for a reason.... "What did Starfleet Command have to say?" he asked, trying to keep his curiosity casual.

The granite features of his friend hardened. "Starfleet Command was not pleased," Wesley said shortly. "But they've been bending over backwards trying to be `culturally sensitive'," he snorted, "ever since they started their drive of posting non-human Starfleet crew on the starships. Even though Jeanine's human, I think they didn't want to look like they were interfering too obviously."

Kirk nodded. Because of Spock's longtime presence on the ship, the _Enterprise_ had been the first to become fully integrated.

Wesley continued, "They made some noise about how inappropriate it was for me to be married to one of my officers. I think Admiral Winchester was waiting for one of us to volunteer to leave the ship. But neither of us ever did, and Starfleet Personnel never suggested it out loud." Wesley shrugged. "I don't think they could afford to make an issue of it, with half the Federation Council watching how we handle the non-humans."

"But two command grade officers," Kirk said carefully, knowing his assumption might be off the mark. "I could understand why Starfleet...."

Wesley interrupted him. "Jeanine's not command grade, Jim. She's the back-up to my second shift navigator. Just got promoted to Lieutenant six months ago. Line of command wasn't much of an issue at all."

"Oh." It was all that Kirk could think of to say. So much for trying to scope out the lay of the land for himself. It looked like Wesley's experience wasn't going to be of much help after all. Well, it had been worth trying.

Kirk returned his attention to the screen. "I'm glad it worked out for you."

"Yep," the older man replied, straightening and slapping his hands on the surface of the desk. "But you didn't contact me just to chat about love, marriage, and Starfleet Command. What can I do for you, Jim?"

I didn't? an impish voice inside Kirk asked. But he subdued it and easily fell back to his second prepared line of conversation. "You were assigned to this sector for six months, and the _Enterprise_ just got here. Thought you might be able to make a good recommendation for a shore leave for my crew. I want to find someplace special. They deserve it."

Wesley nodded. "A reward for that great inspection report the _Enterprise_ got, eh? I heard about that." His hand went up to his chin. "Let me think. Got anything special in mind?"

Kirk's eyes squinted in genuine frustration. "I've got fifty-seven non-human crewmembers on board, Bob. Somehow I've got to find a planet that will appeal to Humans, Andorians, Vegans, Taureans....

"And Vulcans too, right? Or does Mr. Spock think that shore leaves are `illogical'?" Wesley asked.

Kirk shook his head, restraining the smile that threatened. "No, Bob, Commander Spock will be going on leave just like everybody else. I just want to make sure it's the right spot. I've narrowed the choice down to three systems, but only someone who's been there can say which would be best for my crew." He looked at the screen intently, and gestured as he spoke. "I want someplace... sophisticated. Someplace that will take all the differences of my crew in stride. Where the people won't blink at anything. Physical, cultural, sexual differences. Do you know what I mean?"

"Sure," Wesley said confidently. "You want the Fal-T system. Twelve planets, four of them inhabited. Fal-T 3 is the commercial center for the whole sector. We put in there for a three day leave and had a great time. And they're already used to visitors. Even starship crew who've been on board ship for too long, and are looking for a little, shall we say," his lips quirked, "entertainment?"

Kirk chuckled. "I'll say. My crew's practically quivering for that entertainment. Fal-T was one of the places I was considering. You sure? It's really sophisticated?"

Wesley nodded. "Even for your jaded tastes, Captain Kirk." He leaned forward. "You know, Jim, if you just let yourself find somebody like Jeanine, you wouldn't care about leave on some world-weary planet. You'd be carrying your happiness around with you, not always looking for it."

Kirk cast his eyes down to the surface of the desk, and shrugged. "You're sounding like one of the newly converted," he murmured, and struggled to keep the amusement he felt out of his voice. Then, expression mastered, he looked up at the screen. "Don't worry. I'm as ready to fall in love as the next guy."

"Oh, hell, Jim, you wouldn't know love if it reared up and bit you on the ass." Wesley was uncharacteristically crude.

"If it got that close I think I'd notice," Kirk said lightly, and shifted again in his chair. "But you say Fal-T is definitely the place?"

The Commodore pursed his lips, seemed to waver on the brink of pursuing the subject, and then reluctantly nodded. "Jeanine and I found this great little city in the northern hemisphere of Fal-T 3 that the rest of the crew didn't seem to know was there. Falfurrias. I guess it's a pretty obscure place, but the small regional spaceport is there, so they're used to visitors. It's the cultural center for the area; there's always something going on. But the city itself is beautiful, and really peaceful. We both liked it a lot."

"Yeah?" Kirk prompted, interested despite himself. He'd like to visit someplace a little off the beaten track, where none of the crew would be likely to follow him and Spock. But not someplace too boring. "Falfurrias. Interesting name. Anything else there?"

Wesley looked abashed. "Yeah. It means Heart's Delight." He cleared his throat and went on hastily, "There's an interesting archeological site about seventy kilometers out of town that was pretty intriguing." He gave a short laugh, then moved forward in his chair and stared at the screen. "There's a local legend that says there's some artifact buried there that will grant great wisdom and power if it's ever found, but you have to go through the three trials of terror before you're considered worthy. You know, Jim, Jeanine and I just laughed at it. We both know most of these legends don't have any basis in fact. But when we traveled out to the site, there was something there. It was positively eerie."

"On a settled planet? A member of the Federation for years?" Kirk was skeptical.

Wesley passed his hand over his face. "I know. Not too likely. But we both felt uneasy, even fearful." He laughed, a short mirthless laugh that revealed the extent of his discomfort. "I don't think it was just nerves, and neither did Jeanine. She visits a lot of these ancient sites, every chance she gets. Archeology is her hobby."  
"Oh, really," Kirk teased, but with a perfectly straight face. It was hard to imagine the stern Commodore traipsing through a dry and uninteresting archeological site behind his eager wife. Nevertheless, what Wesley had said intrigued him. That kind of a mystery would be sure to interest Spock. Anything scientifically intriguing was his hobby. And even though archeology wasn't one of Kirk's interests, maybe the two of them could visit the site together, make a day of it. "Falfurrias sounds good, Bob. If we... if I go there I'll check out your eerie place and let you know what I think. Anything else about the system I should know?"

Wesley ticked off the choices on his fingers. "Fal-T 4 for anybody who wants winter sports. The second planet for sunbathing and desert dwellers. Number 6 for heavy planet folks. Fal-T 3 should cover everybody else. Something for everyone."

"Great. Thanks for the recommendation. Anything I can do for you?"

"No." Wesley waved a hand in the air. Then he brightened, and added, with a gleam in his eye that betrayed his normally serious countenance, "Show up the next time the Klingons decide to test our shields. Or better yet, trade me Commander Spock for Cunningham. I'll even throw in my first shift helmsman. The _Enterprise_ has had that Vulcan long enough, don't you think?"

Kirk couldn't help himself, he laughed. "Dream on, Bob. You'll have to collect some other way. I wouldn't give up Spock for three helmsmen."

"Don't I know it," Wesley said ruefully. "Well, maybe someday. Enjoy your shore leave, Captain."

"Enjoy your honeymoon, Commodore," Kirk said wickedly. "Kirk out."

Kirk looked at the blank screen for a moment, then sat back comfortably in his chair, his hands cradling his head. He gently smiled up at the bulkhead. So Bob was worried that this starship captain was jaded and looking for happiness. So his friend thought he wouldn't know love if it bit him on the ass, eh? Kirk laughed out loud. Would the Commodore be surprised if he knew that Kirk had already found his happiness, and that his extremely efficient, logical joy was sitting in the command chair on the Bridge right now?

Trade Spock for Commander Cunningham and a helmsman? Rather trade in his own heart instead! These last four and a half months since he and Spock had become lovers had been wonderful. Not exactly perfect, but wonderful. There had been that little misunderstanding on the Tristar Station, but that had mainly been Spock learning to cope with jealousy. And it had led to some really exciting sex, and added a now permanent fillip to their love life.

But then there had been that awful estrangement over the melds. Shit, he never wanted to go through that again. There had been misunderstanding on both sides as he and Spock grappled with problems communicating, problems relinquishing control, acknowledging the doubts that went along with the newly-discovered facets of their sexuality. Though they had forgiven each other, the memory was still tender.

No, so far it hadn't been the fairy tale love that Bob seemed to have with his Jeanine. But Kirk didn't want fairy tales, he wanted Spock's strength of mind and character at his side, and Spock's strong arms around him. Nothing worthwhile ever came easily, he thought. Not a single one of his effortless, transitory affairs with soft female lovers had ever made him feel the way he felt now. He was so damn much in love with that irreplaceable, irresistible Vulcan.

In love enough to consider making it... permanent. In love enough to think about marriage, and bonding, and to want to know what Starfleet Command might have to say about such an unusual pairing. In love enough to really try to work through the problems he had with loving another man. He'd heard plenty of jokes about people who preferred same sex relationships, made some of them himself, and to find himself in the middle of one had been a distinct shock.

Early on, when he and Spock had both been caught in the incredible glow of new love, they had whispered the word `forever' to each other. Then had come the reality of their misunderstandings, the inevitable strains as they had tried to mesh their lives together, and all of Kirk's uneasiness over this change in his sexual nature. Now, they were both working hard to communicate. Maybe, too hard. Neither one of them had said `forever' lately. They were both too cautious.

But here was an opportunity to break the routine. Kirk was too practical to think that the first flush of their passion could be recaptured, but he felt confident that they would discover something new, and even better. He wanted to spend ten blissful days on leave with his lover, he wanted to relax in Spock's company, and wanted them both to relax in each other's arms. Someplace like Fal-T 3 sounded just right, a `sophisticated planet' where he and Spock could be easy with each other. A people that wouldn't blink at any of the many alien species among the _Enterprise’s_ crew wouldn't blink at two men together, would they? And ten days together on a strange planet would certainly give them both a good idea if the `forever' that still seemed very possible to him was actually a realistic goal.

So, Falfurrias it would be for them; Kirk hoped that everybody else would find their way someplace else. With the whole rest of Fal-T 3 to choose from, and three other planets in the system, there was a good chance that he and Spock could enjoy their leave in quiet anonymity.

Unclasping his hands, Kirk leaned forward to activate the intercom. Uhura's beautiful face appeared on the screen.

"Bridge. Uhura here," she said briskly.

"Lieutenant. Contact the planetary government of Fal-T 3, and make arrangements for us to orbit the planet in... let's say two days."

Uhura made no effort to hide her smile. "Shore leave, Captain?"

"Shore leave, Lieutenant," he nodded. "Arrange a meeting with department heads, tomorrow 0900. We have some scheduling to take care of."

"Yes, sir," she replied with zest.

Good, Kirk thought with satisfaction as her image faded. His superbly competent communications chief would take care of the details. Now, all he had to do was find a way to make sure that his lover and first officer, who to his knowledge had never taken an extended leave of any kind, would accompany him to the planet. Maybe he could tantalize Spock with that archeological site....

 

 

"Isn't Jim going to join us?" McCoy asked as he deftly punched in his choices for dinner.

Spock patiently waited for the doctor, his tray of vegetarian dishes already in his hands. "No, the captain left the Bridge a few hours ago to complete reports. He is determined to be current before our upcoming shore leave."  
McCoy snorted, then reached into the recess to remove his food. "If we ever get a shore leave. Maybe it's just a figment of Starfleet's imagination."

"I can assure you, Doctor," Spock said, leading the way toward the far side of the crowded rec room, "leave is forthcoming. It only remains for the captain to decide the time and location."

"Yeah, well, you'll probably be finished with that research project you've been working on forever before we hit orbit around some nice planet," McCoy grumbled, stepping around one of the plants with which Maintenance had recently seen fit to decorate the Rec rooms.

"You are speaking of my work on the Preservers?" Spock asked, glancing at the doctor from over his shoulder.

"Yeah. You know, I'm still not so sure you can substantiate a connection between Sargon and the Preservers. Some of what he said just didn't...."

"Mister Spock? Doctor McCoy? Would you like to join us?" Ensign Irini Hunyady motioned toward the two empty seats at the table she shared with Lieutenant Brian Dawson, and smiled shyly up at them.

Spock glanced once at McCoy, saw his nod, and gracefully acquiesced. "Thank you, Ensign. We would be pleased to join you." He placed his tray on the table and slid into the seat next to Dawson.

Ever since Spock had been in the position four weeks ago to save the young Engineering lieutenant from an accidental electrocution, Hunyady had been trying to find ways to thank him for rescuing Dawson. The woman's efforts were unobtrusive, and kind, and while they occasionally made Spock feel somewhat uncomfortable, they in no way lowered the respect that Spock had for her. Hunyady was a competent officer, and was fulfilling her new duties as a reserve Science Officer on the Bridge with efficiency. This invitation to dinner was welcome. She and Dawson were pleasant companions.

"So," McCoy drawled as he shook out his napkin, "have you two set the date yet?"

Trust McCoy to touch upon such a private subject to open the conversation. Surely it would have been more appropriate to speak of duty-related matters, such as the astrophysics equations that Spock had been about to mention. However, the two young people did not appear to be in the least taken aback by McCoy's question, and were now glancing at each other to see who would answer it.

Spock was unsure of when he had become aware of the fact that Dawson and Hunyady were lovers. He usually did not notice the social interactions of his shipmates. But they had been radiating their mutual affection quite obviously now for weeks. And Spock knew that the change in his own personal circumstances made him more sensitive to the emotions of others. After all, he had seen the same soft look that was now in Dawson's eyes in the eyes of his captain.

Jim's eyes. Perhaps, what had helped bring Spock to this strange and wondrous state of being loved. Of loving. Jim had such fascinating eyes.

Spock took in a deep breath and stared down, unseeing, at his food. There were times when he found it difficult to assimilate the many changes that had taken place in his life in such a short time. For so long his life had been settled, planned, ordered. And then a dynamic, golden-haired human had swept onto the _Enterprise_ , and swept all of Spock's orderliness away. The next three years had been such years of satisfaction and accomplishment, as he and James Kirk formed a command team, and a friendship, that faced and overcame many obstacles.

But even the memory of those steadily enriching years as Jim's friend could not compare with the texture of the last four and a half months as his lover. Acknowledging their physical passion for one another and striving to build an intimate life together had been wondrous activities.

Wondrous, Spock repeated to himself. The past few months as a lover had been wonderful. Full of wonder. Before, when he had not known the incomparable touch of the person whom he loved, those words had not been in his vocabulary. Nor had another. T'hy'la.

Even the memory of their times of contention did not dim the happiness that accompanied Spock everywhere now, as he had once only been accompanied by his solitary thoughts. He and Jim had discovered much about each other, and Spock saw those times as adding richness and depth to their relationship. If he had never acknowledged his own difficulty in communicating, their association would surely have foundered by now; if Jim had not confided his problems in learning to trust and share, how could trust continue to grow? And they were both still adjusting to the challenge their love brought to their sexuality.

No, Spock did not regret their disagreements. So far, they had brought truth, and a new closeness that was in its way even better than their earlier passions. Perhaps, soon it would be time to speak of a commitment to Jim again. Assuming, of course, that their relationship continued to grow.

Spock was so lost in his contemplations that he almost missed Dawson's reply to McCoy's question. "We want a shipboard wedding, Doctor McCoy, if the captain approves, with our friends invited."

"That's right," Hunyady interjected, pushing her long auburn hair off her shoulder in a no-nonsense gesture. "And we'd like to think that you're one of our friends, so will you be the first on the guest list?"

McCoy hitched around in his chair to face her, and executed a bow, at least as much of a bow as he could manage while still seated. "Why certainly, mah lovely lady," he said, his drawl much in evidence. "I would be honored to dance at your weddin'."

Hunyady turned to Spock, her brown eyes shyly meeting his and then darting away. "I hadn't exactly planned it like this, Mister Spock," she said softly, then looked back up at him bravely, "but now seems to be a good time. Would you mind if I asked you to give the bride away? My father's back on Earth, and there's really no one else I'd rather...." Her usually resolute voice trailed away.

All Spock's other thoughts fled before this most startling request. Although he had attended several shipboard weddings, never had he been asked to participate in one. The flagrant emotions openly displayed at such a time made him uncomfortable. Almost indignantly, Spock thought that surely he had given the ensign no indication that he wished....

A polite refusal was on the tip of his tongue. But Hunyady was looking at him so hopefully, and next to her McCoy was manfully smothering his grin. If Spock accepted.... The Captain of the _Enterprise_ would conduct the ceremony, no doubt, clad in the dress uniform that so complemented his hair color, and standing ramrod straight in the posture that inspired confidence. Was it not true that Spock hoped he would be able to join with Jim in just such a ceremony someday, or perhaps even a bonding? Would it not be logical to expose himself to the situation now, if only to accustom himself to it? Spock imagined himself escorting Hunyady up the short, traditional aisle in the _Enterprise’s_ chapel, and meeting the eyes of his own lover as he did so. Surely, Spock's presence next to a bride would cause Jim to have other thoughts about the two of them.  
Hastily, Spock rejected that last thought as unworthy of him and of Jim. When the time was appropriate, he would reintroduce the subject of a commitment between them openly, without recourse to artifice and coincidence. Honest communication between them was vital. But in the meantime, perhaps participation in this ceremony was not illogical....

"I would be pleased to take part in the formal acknowledgment of your commitment to Lieutenant Dawson, Ensign," Spock said with a slow nod. "I am somewhat ignorant of the role you wish me to play, so you must instruct me at the appropriate time."

Across the table, McCoy gulped obviously, then hastily reached for his glass of iced tea to cover his reaction. The Doctor never hesitated to tease Spock in front of Kirk, or Engineer Scott, but he was silent now before the two junior officers. Spock, who had been anticipating a caustic comment, was surprised at the restraint.

"Thank you, Mister Spock, I'll do that." Hunyady's eyes glowed with satisfaction. "But it won't be for a few weeks. Brian and I thought we'd wait until after the shore leave on Fal-T."

McCoy put down his glass with a clunk and a slosh. He grabbed for his napkin to clean up the spilled tea, and asked with widened eyes at the same time, "Fal-T? You mean shore leave's really finally been scheduled?" He looked across the table at Spock. "How come I'm always the last to know? How come nobody ever tells me anything around here?"

For a moment, Spock was startled, and wondered if McCoy's words hinted at knowledge of his and Jim's intimate relationship. But no, McCoy was now turning accusing eyes toward the young Ensign.

Hunyady laughed. "I don't know, Doctor McCoy, maybe my sources are better than yours. Lieutenant Schulz told me when he relieved me in the Astrophysics Lab. He said he'd heard it from Tan Resl't. Since Tan's in Communications, it sounds like gospel to me."

Dawson leaned forward, a fork in one hand. "And it's a long one. Two whole weeks!"

McCoy looked at him skeptically. "Two weeks? Now that doesn't seem likely, Lieutenant. Since when has Starfleet Command...."

Spock allowed his attention to drift again. Uneasily, he realized that he and Jim had not yet discussed the upcoming leave. Although Spock very much wanted to spend his allotted free time with his lover, Jim did not know that, and might assume that Spock would be reluctant to leave the ship, as had been true in the past. At this very moment, Jim might be making other plans to occupy his time.

The thought was not acceptable. Dawson and Hunyady would undoubtedly spend their time together; Spock determined to do the same with his human lover, even if he had to speak persuasively to convince him that was indeed Spock's wish. Except....

There would be many days alone with Jim, with none of their shipboard duties to occupy them. What exactly did Jim like to do on a shore leave, once the search for a sexual companion had been eliminated? Many leisure activities typically engaged in by humans held no allure for Spock. How could he adjust to them? Did he wish to adjust to unfamiliar and unattractive amusements? And would not Jim realize his disinterest even if he attempted to feign the opposite?

Would they still find one another pleasing after such a concentrated time together?

It was a disturbing thought, but one that had no immediate resolution. It was illogical to speculate when essential data was still unavailable, and so Spock pushed aside the momentary desolation he felt at the image of his current happiness with Jim... terminated. Only their actual experience together on the planet could indicate whether a lasting sharing between them would be possible. Until that data had been gathered, it was much more logical to indulge in the positive, and the instinctive confidence Spock had in his captain, and his lover. In just a few hours they would be together, and Spock would choose the correct time to speak....

 

 

"Oh, I'm close! Yes!!" Kirk gritted through straining lips as he bucked within Spock's grip. "That's it! Right there! Just...."

There was a moment of silence as Spock worked his hand furiously. Kirk gasped noisily, then stiffened all over, as he hovered just on the brink of orgasm. Then, "Uhhh, uhhh, uhhh...," and creamy liquid cascaded from his cock.

Kirk slowly relaxed back against the pillow, enjoying the last lingering pleasure of his climax. Spock's motionless hand was still wrapped around him; his lover knew how sensitive he was right after he came, though sometimes Kirk wondered how much of that position was consideration for his sensitivity, and how much was simply that Spock liked to hold onto his prick.

He pried open his eyes now, and looked at Spock, who was on his side, propped up on one elbow, staring down intently at the depleted organ as if it were the most fascinating sight in the universe. Spock's own erect cock, yet to be taken care of that night, was nudging itself against Kirk's thigh.

Kirk reached up and mussed the dark hair. "Hey, you're getting pretty good at that."

Spock released his grip and carefully wiped his hand against the sheet. Then he stretched out against the bed and maneuvered himself into Kirk's outstretched arms. "I am pleased that you think so."

Kirk turned onto his side so that he was facing his lover upon the pillow. He leaned forward and lightly dropped a kiss upon the prominent nose. "Uh-huh. I do."

"I have read," Spock said carefully, "that the act of masturbation is believed by most human males to produce the most intense of all sexual sensations."

"Well, that's true," Kirk said thoughtfully. "A man knows how to touch himself better than anyone else. But when you touch me, I really like it just as much."

At Spock's doubting look, he continued. "There's an element of surprise. I don't know exactly what you'll do next. And I like being able to just lean back and enjoy it."

Spock's eyes twinkled. "You enjoy being catered to."

Kirk laughed. "You bet. Especially if you're the one who's doing the catering."

Spock's free hand came up to caress Kirk's face, stroking over the meld points along his temple. "Melding during this particular activity was helpful in identifying which touches bring you the most pleasure."

Kirk's gaze softened. "One of your special gifts to me," he whispered, and leaned into a lingering kiss.  
When they pulled apart, Kirk twisted around to reach for the lubricant they kept on his nightstand. He had discovered that Spock's penis was very sensitive; they always needed to use a cream when Kirk handled him for very long.

With a sigh, Spock straightened out on his back and closed his eyes, anticipating his lover's touch. Kirk sat up, reached toward the growing cock, then hesitated.

"Spock?" he asked.

"Yes, Jim?" Spock opened his eyes, curious at the doubtful tone.

"We're going on shore leave together, right?" Kirk's voice firmed into certainty.

Spock lifted his head from the pillow and arched one eyebrow. "Is this coercion?" he asked in mock incredulity, nodding down at where Kirk's hand hovered several centimeters from his organ.

"No, you ass, it isn't," Kirk complained, and wrapped his cream-covered fingers around Spock's stiffness.

Spock sighed at the intense pleasure Jim's hand always gave him, and dropped back against the pillow. He closed his eyes. "Although I do not typically indulge in shore leave, I would be pleased to accompany you to Fal-T 3, Jim."

"Are you sure?" Kirk asked quietly. "I don't want to force you into doing something you don't want. Although there is an interesting sounding archeological site that Bob Wesley told me about...." His voice trailed off, and he looked back down at where his hand was busy moving against Spock's prick. He began to play with the space between the penile ridges.

Spock restrained the urge to thrust up into the stimulation. "Please believe me, I do wish to share this leave with you." He paused. Honest communication between the two of them was vital. "To be truthful, I am even prepared to use persuasive means to convince you to accompany me to the planet." His hand curled into fists against the bedcoverings. Jim knew just where his most sensitive areas were....

"Persuasive means? To get me to go on leave? I don't think it's logical to think you'd need to do that," Kirk softly accused. He ran his finger reflectively around the rim of the sensitive upper ridge. "As long as we're being honest with each other, I was hoping you'd come along with me even if it was just to see that archeological dig. Guess I don't need to resort to that, do I?" He shifted his slippery grip so that he could tease up the whole length of the long shaft, and was rewarded with one of the groans he loved to hear from his so self-possessed lover.

"Indeed not." Even to his own ears, Spock's voice sounded unfamiliar, strained. He attempted to focus on what Jim was saying, but it was difficult with so much physical stimulus bombarding his senses. He reached for a normal comment. "We need not resort to such subterfuge. We must attempt to foster...." Jim's grip was tightening, and momentarily Spock lost his train of thought. He drew in a deep breath in time to a most tantalizing pull straight up his penis. "...open communication between us," Spock managed to finish. "I do not wish...." He turned his head against the pillow and gave up the fight. Jim undoubtedly wished him to surrender. Spock bit against his lower lip, aware now only of the intense sensations coursing through his body. In particular where Jim was touching him. How did Jim always excite him so quickly?

Spock felt Jim's free hand pull against his clenched fingers, and he swiftly opened them so that their hands could come together, fingers entwined. Spock groaned again, this time not because of a physical sensation, but because of the overwhelming sense of love that came over him from such a simple action. An image of what the two of them must look like flashed into his mind.

Jim's right hand was stroking his penis, Jim's left hand was clutching at his fingers. If Spock were to open his eyes, his lover would be looking down at him, for he knew that Jim loved to see the passion that he inspired on Spock's face.

The tableau was a mirror of their relationship. All the physical excitement of sexual touch, all the comfort and security of enduring friendship, all the allure of new discoveries about each other.

Spock arched up, and hazily thought that no ordinary artist could have painted that masterpiece in his mind's eye. Only Jim could have. Only Jim.

The motion upon his penis changed, becoming more insistent, and Spock knew that his lover knew he was very close to climax. He felt the mattress shift as Jim leaned down upon his elbow, and then a soft voice was whispering into his ear, and a wet tongue was tracing the pointed contours that so fascinated a human starship captain....

"Spock," Jim's voice was soft, caressing, "what were you saying? You do not wish what? What don't you wish?" Jim's touch became lighter, and stopped just short of running over the widely flared out ridges.

Spock gasped for breath, and arched up again, desperate for the few strong strokes that would take him over the edge into climactic pleasure. "Don't stop!" he forced out. "I do not wish you to stop!"

"Oh, no, love," Kirk whispered, and he forcefully stripped the long cock from base to yearning tip. "I won't stop. With you? Not ever."

 

 

CHAPTER TWO

The hotel lobby was large, bright, and airy, and its coolness was a welcome relief to Kirk, who was starting to break out into a light sweat after hiking with Spock from the beamdown point near the spaceport. He paused in the middle of the white tiled floor, mopped at his brow with the arm not carrying his suitcase, and then looked around with satisfaction.

"This looks good to me; what do you think?"

"If the accommodations match the public areas of this hostelry, then this would be a good choice," Spock said quietly. "Let us inquire if rooms are available."

Rooms, Kirk thought with a frown. Surely, that was just a slip of the tongue, and Spock didn't really expect them to sleep apart for the sake of convention. And `hostelry'. Spock's choice of that too formal word revealed how uncomfortable he was. They needed to get over the awkwardness of checking-in.

To Kirk's surprise, when they approached the check-in area there was a human clerk with whom they had to deal, and not the computer he had expected. But there were always adjustments to make on any planet; each was different, with its own peculiar mix of technology and culture.  
"How may I help you?" the man politely inquired, in slightly accented Standard.

"We'd like a room," Kirk said shortly, aware of Spock standing at his shoulder behind him, and resisting the urge to turn around and look at him. He added, "With a view, if possible." The picturesque town of Falfurrias was nestled within the curve of a low mountain range. He and Spock had both commented on the natural beauty as they walked along; Kirk had already thanked Wesley in his mind, several times.

"Of course," the clerk assented. "We still have several choice rooms available. The dance festival did not draw as many visitors as we had hoped this year. Would you care to indicate your preference?" And he activated a comp screen that was built into the counter on which Kirk had been leaning.

"Oh, great, Kirk thought. He hadn't even thought to ask Spock what sort of financial arrangements they were going to make for this leave, and he had no idea if his lover's budget went more for the opulent or the spartan. If he had his way, they'd head for the penthouse and damn the expense.

Spock drew up beside him as pictures of several possibilities at a time were presented. There were suites, small rooms, rooms with large baths, rooms with four beds....

Spock touched one schematic and said quietly, "Computer, enlarge." Kirk looked up at him, surprised that his friend was participating in this embarrassing proceeding, and was caught by the curious tilt of Spock's head as he carefully examined the display.

Spock felt his scrutiny, and looked up at him with one raised brow. "Nothing," Kirk said, but he couldn't help smiling just a little, and feeling rewarded when Spock smiled back at him with his eyes. Kirk could feel them both relaxing.

Spock turned his attention back to the clerk. "If this accommodation on the third floor faces to the south, I believe it will suit our needs." He looked steadily at Kirk. "This planet's sun rises in the east, as on your Earth. The sleeping area juts out into an outdoor patio, and there are numerous windows on either side that allow the light in from both east and west. It should allow morning and afternoon sunlight to enter the suite and produce a pleasing effect." Spock swallowed hard. "Is that... acceptable to you?"

It could have been a hovel and Kirk wouldn't have cared, not with this gentle offering from his lover. Spock knew how much he loved the sunlight.

"That is very acceptable, Mr. Spock," Kirk said gently, and then looked away quickly, not trusting his trembling emotions. He hadn't thought that simply checking into a hotel would be such an event.

"And the room faces south, gentlemen," the forgotten clerk added. He quickly produced a thumb pad for their ID's, and a magnetic stylus to write on the comp screen. "One hundred and fifty credits a day."

Kirk nodded, not surprised at the steep cost. Spock hadn't spared the expense. He picked up the stylus, leaned on his elbows, but paused before signing. He looked back over his shoulder at his companion. "Are we official Starfleet?"

"Regulations specify that we are, Captain."

"I don't feel very regulation right now, Commander."

"As you wish." Spock bowed his head. But he added, as Kirk signed `James T. Kirk, Riverside, Iowa, Earth' with a flourish, "I will inform Communications of our whereabouts by communicator."

Kirk turned and made a face at him, then peered over his shoulder as Spock signed his full legal Vulcan name. He squinted down at the tangled syllables. "Can your mother really pronounce that?"

"It would be odd if a mother could not say her own child's name."

"Do you think I'll ever be able to?"

Spock looked at his lover measuringly for a moment, before bending down to pick up his suitcase. "If you wish to," he murmured.

 

Spock surveyed the room with approval. It was bright with the sunlight that he knew filled his lover's dreams, a sunlight that had come to represent peace and tranquility to a hard-working starship captain. It came streaming in now through the large louvered windows that flanked each side of the raised platform on which the bed was centered, and through the skylight placed directly overhead. The late afternoon sun made a laddered pattern on the bedspread, and touched fingers of light to the grouping of upholstered furniture by the door. He could make out patio greenery through the filmy white curtains that framed the windows.

Spock was pleased that this room had been available. The spaciousness and the sunlight would contribute to Jim's pleasure.

But after a few moments standing in the middle of the room, Spock flushed when he realized how his attention had become focused on the bed. Since it was the most prominent piece of furniture in the room, indeed, approximately 3.75 times the size of the bunks on the ship, his action was quite logical. But he had not considered the advantages a larger sleeping area might have for their sexual activities until now. Although, they had managed without much trouble on the narrow _Enterprise_ bunks....

Jim was looking at him with a smile. "How about unpacking before we do anything else? I like to get settled in right away."

Spock nodded silently, and turned to the simple task. It did not take long to deposit his few articles of clothing in the drawers provided for them, or hang them in the closet. As he shook out the creases in a white pullover sweater, he looked carefully at the shirts and pants Jim had already hung there. Perhaps he could gauge the scope of their upcoming activities by the type of clothing his lover had chosen to bring. Spock still felt uneasy about what Jim would probably propose for them to do, but he was grimly determined to cooperate with his desires as fully as possible.

Kirk emerged from the bathroom with an empty suitcase in his hand, and slid it into the closet at the same time that Spock deposited his last pair of socks in the blonde-wood chest of drawers.

"So," Kirk said, rubbing his hands together lightly, "what would you like to do?"

Spock went to stand next to one of the windows by the bed, and fingered the edge of a white curtain. He noticed a mis-stitch in a seam. "I have no particular desires at this time."

Kirk frowned. "Well, you must want to do something. Tour the city? Get something to eat?"  
Spock released the curtain and turned to face Kirk where he stood six meters away in the middle of the room. "Jim, you are aware that this leave is a new experience for me. I am unaccustomed to leisure. I am willing to be guided by your own desires at this time."

"That doesn't sound very fair to me," Kirk protested.

"Nevertheless, that is what I prefer. If I were not with you, what would your normal activity at this time be?" Spock had faith that Jim would spare him any recital of intimate activities with other partners.

Kirk laughed nervously and ran his fingers through his hair. "Well, you probably won't believe this.... Usually, I get so involved with last minute ship's details, and getting everybody else scheduled, that, well...," he shrugged, "usually I'm pretty beat by the time I manage to beam down. I take a nap."

Spock looked at him in surprise. This vision of James Kirk was a new one. The dynamic captain, released from shipboard duties, taking a nap?

It was an agenda that he would be pleased to follow. Involuntarily his eyes went to the enormous bed, and then back to the now amused look in his lover's eyes.

"Can't believe it, can you?" Quickly Kirk strode across the room and bounded up the one step onto the sleeping platform. He caught Spock in a hug. "Are you tired too? Think you could sleep with me?"

"Of course," Spock reassured.

"But first, since you don't look too tired...," Kirk nuzzled along his lover's neck, "I'm thinking of something that's guaranteed to make you drowsy."

Spock wrapped his arms around his lover's strong back, and tilted his head to allow Jim's lips better access. "I believe that we are considering the same activity," he said throatily, "although I would gladly lie next to you under any circumstances."

Kirk pulled back within Spock's embrace to look at him. "Oh, Spock," he said, with a little half-smile, his eyes soft and full, "you really mean that, don't you? How did I ever deserve a wonderful lover like you?"

"It is not a matter of deserving anything," Spock pointed out, his arms tightening and pulling Kirk closer. The next words were more difficult, but Spock forced his way through this suddenly emotional moment, as he had learned to force himself through other moments with Jim that involved feelings he had always before hidden. "It is simply a matter of what is. I... enjoy being with you. In whatever way. Even if you are sleeping, I can sense your psychic presence near me, and that is pleasing."

Jim looked at him with wonder. His eyes searched Spock's face, as if he were seeing a rare treasure for the first and only time, as if he were memorizing the moment and storing it in his heart. His mouth opened, but then it closed and he shook his head slightly, overcome by the moment and unable to speak. Instead, gently, slowly, he leaned forward to join their lips in the lightest of kisses, then caught up one of Spock's hands. "Come here," he said, his voice rough with an emotion to which he could not give words. He pulled his lover across the room, and Spock went willingly.

They stopped before a blue overstuffed chair, and Kirk gathered Spock into an embrace again. His hands worked at his lover's clothing as he whispered into a pointed ear. "Will you sit down and let me love you?"

It took only a few moments for Kirk to divest Spock of his clothing. The fabric of the chair was rough against the bare skin of Spock's back and buttocks, and under the circumstances, stimulating. He squirmed a little against it, feeling an irregularity in the cushion catch against his still heavy testicles, and narrowed his eyes to look up at his lover before him.

Kirk was standing, bathed in sunlight, slowly removing each article of his clothing. And at the sight, Spock felt the now familiar thump within his chest that characterized the realization of intense emotion. Jim was looking straight at him, that little half-smile again on his face, and he looked... magnificent. There was no other word that Spock could find to describe the sight of his lover, profiled by the afternoon sun, the glow outlining the curve of his strong shoulders, the muscled strength of his upper arms, the lithe line that flowed down to his narrow hips, and beyond....

Spock caught his breath in wonder, and he could feel his penis start to stretch in equally awed response. How was it that the affinity between them had transformed itself into this wondrous, nurturing love, this mutual need for each other's bodies? The question barely had time to register in Spock's overloading brain. His naked lover was standing before him, and they were about to engage in an intimate act.

Kirk knelt down between Spock's legs, but before he could reach for the green-tinged penis, Spock leaned forward and captured his lips in a heart-felt kiss.

"You are beautiful," he murmured against the silkiness. "It is not logical that the sight of your body should arouse me so, but I will not deny reality. You are beautiful."

He caught Kirk by the shoulders and pulled them close, wanting the sensation of their chests pressed together. But after a clinging moment, Jim gently exerted some strength and pushed him back. "Let me love you," he said again, and reached for the double-ridged penis.

Sighing, Spock gave himself up to the world of sensation. It was something he was still learning to do, and Jim was the only one he trusted enough to teach him the lessons of passion and response. Now, despite the incongruity of his captain kneeling and paying his organ such homage, he allowed himself to feel Jim's lips sliding over the head of his penis, and the accompanying electric thrills of pleasure that flashed through his body with every movement down and then up and over. He watched as a pink tongue flicked out and laved up and down the length of his organ, then hovered over the swollen head with strong licks. Just for a moment, lips tightened against him. Spock tensed, savoring the building pleasure in his body, and resisting the urge to buck and thrust upward with the suction he desperately wanted to continue. Already, he was so close to orgasm....

But then the intense sensation of Jim's sucking lips against him was gone, and Jim returned to the long licks up and down the length of his shaft. Spock moaned, partly with pleasure, partly in frustration. The sound of his own voice uttering such a primitive sound startled him, and stimulated him even further.

"Jim," he gasped, "you are so arousing!"

Kirk paused with the head caught between his lips, and glanced up at the passion-clouded eyes of his lover. "I love the way you get so hard so fast," he managed to say, panting, then he slid his mouth down the side of the penis to greedily suck the edges of both flared ridges at once.

It was a maneuver calculated to end in climax. Spock could not stop the tightening in his testicles that foretold his completion, nor could he stop the series of moans that somehow escaped his lips as he thrust upwards in little, half-controlled jerks. He threw his head back against the cushion, eyes closed, but he could see in his mind's eye exactly what was being done to him, and how Jim's seemingly submissive posture on his knees was actually one of such power.... Jim was drawing every nerve ending in Spock's body straight into his penis, he was commanding Spock as surely as he did on the bridge, he was forcing him to respond beyond all possibility of escape....

"Ohhh, Ohhh, Uh, Uh, Oh, Jim, JIM!" Spock shouted, and gave himself up to total loss of control.

Before the last tremors of climax were gone, Kirk had released his penis and come into his arms. Spock leaned forward and tucked his head in the hollow of his lover's shoulder, lips brushing against the strong neck. He weakly returned Jim's embrace. His orgasm had temporarily robbed him of energy.

Kirk dropped a kiss upon his cheek. Spock could smell his own emission upon Jim's breath. "Wow. You must have really loved that one. You haven't made that much noise in a while."

The pounding of his heart in his side was beginning to subside, and it was easier now to catch his breath. "The circumstances are different," Spock managed to point out, licking at Kirk's ear lobe with just the tip of his tongue. "The nearest inhabitant of this hotel is at least ten meters and a solid wall away. I was under the impression that unbridled behavior was the object of shore leave." He worried at the lobe with his teeth. Jim had remarkably sensitive ears.

Within Spock's firming grip, Kirk shuddered, and tilted his head a little. He loved having his ears sucked. Sometimes he thought that the shivers that ran through his body just from that stimulation alone were like a mini-orgasm. Like he was coming from his ears. He chuckled at the thought.

Spock pulled back and asked, "What?"

Kirk smiled at him. "I love it when you pay attention to my ears."

"I am inclined to pay attention to every part of you, but there is one portion of your anatomy that requires immediate aid. Am I not correct?"

They both looked down at where Kirk's erect cock was pressed against the front of the cushioned seat.

Kirk looked back up at Spock with a lop-sided grin. "Yeah. So what are you gonna do about it?"

"I will do to you...," Spock pressed against his lover's shoulders, pushing Kirk to lie back flat upon the carpet. He came out of the chair and covered him with his own body. "...what you did for me." He wriggled down until his face hovered over the erect cock.

"Oh, God, yes!" Kirk hissed. "Do it to me. Suck me!"

Spock grabbed the base of the thick organ and captured the swollen head between his lips. He rested his tongue upon the tip, seeking out and caressing the tiny hole before he paused and allowed himself to experience all the sensations of the moment.

Jim's organ stretching the contours of his mouth was intensely satisfying. He loved the feeling of his lover's penis rubbing the inside of his lips, and stimulating the sensitive tissue of cheek and tongue. Jim's penis was so strong. So smooth. Capable of such changes. So much like Jim himself.

Now Spock held it just barely within his lips, tightening around the glans. It felt warm, vitally alive, and vibrant with Jim's passion for him. Like a live creature that somehow had the power to transform mere human flesh into miraculous pleasure. But this naked flesh could work no miracles alone. It required... him. He, his lips, his hand, his gripping muscles deep within, held the key that unlocked the door to Jim's ecstasy.

An unfamiliar thrill coursed through Spock with the thought. He could give Jim pleasure, at his pleasure. He waited for long moments, hovering, barely breathing upon the life just within him, wanting the suspense to build in the tensing legs beneath him, wanting Jim to want him to move....

Just as Jim gathered breath to protest, Spock went down on him completely. He sucked vigorously as he made his way up the quivering shaft, working his tongue and lips together to the satisfying sound of Jim's excited gasp. He reached the flared out corona, and teased it by lightly swirling his tongue all around. Spock's grip upon the base tightened, but he held his mouth still again, tantalizing. He waited.

"Spock," Kirk threatened breathlessly, and his hands tangled in his lover's hair, "Suck me! Please!"

Spock relented to the pressure pushing him down. It was, after all, what he himself desired to do. He plunged back down the shaft, licking and sucking in a sudden flurry of motion.

Kirk propped himself up on his elbows, groaned as he saw his cock disappear within his lover's mouth, gasped when Spock's suctioning lips came up off the organ for a moment before descending again. "Oh, I love to watch you doing this to me," he panted.

The comment diverted Spock's attention, and he looked up, keeping his hand on the now-glistening cock. "You do?" he asked curiously.

Kirk stifled another groan. Now he'd have to provide an answer before Spock would get back down to business. When would he learn to just shut up and enjoy it? When would Spock learn that some things you shouldn't interrupt?

He took a firming breath and lay down flat again; the carpet was beginning to get to his elbows. He tilted his head to the side so he could still see Spock's face.

"Remember the first time you ever sucked me?" Spock nodded. "I couldn't believe you would do that. It was so exciting. I kept saying to myself, `this is my first officer doing this. This is Spock going down on me'. It was incredible. I don't think I was ever so turned on."

The recital of his intensely private thoughts was having a predictable effect. Kirk found his heart beating even more furiously than it had been, and there was a strange thrumming moving through his stomach. He thrust his organ up through Spock's encircling hand, demanding stimulation, and thankfully Spock got the message. He started to stroke the rock-hard cock, his watchful eyes still fastened on Kirk's face.

"I think I almost came that time just thinking about what you were doing. The thought that it was you...." Kirk shook his head, unable, and perhaps unwilling to share any more. It was almost impossible to concentrate enough for speech anyway. Spock's hand against him was nearly as effective as his mouth had been. That warm, sweet mouth that looked so stern, and was such a pleasure to be inside.... "Shit, that feels so good!" He arched into Spock's pumping, fantasizing about something else.

"I believe I understand," Spock said thoughtfully. He gave Kirk an enigmatic look, the corners of his mouth barely quirked, and then he bent toward where his hand was pistoning up and down. His lips covered the swollen head, and he started to suck. He moved his hand away to make sure that Kirk had an unobstructed view.

"Oh lover, yes!" Kirk was up and watching again. "Just like that. Your sweet mouth. Oh God, I'm gonna come in your mouth!"

Spock swallowed the thick organ completely, all the way to the root, and frantically worked his throat muscles in the way he had learned stimulated Jim the most.

It was more than Kirk could bear. With a strangled, "I'm coming!" he arched up and pumped wildly into the moistness that he loved.

Spock held himself motionless until the period of sensitivity had passed, Jim's weeping organ protectively encased in his mouth. Then he carefully licked away all traces of the sticky fluid before moving up to take his lover in his arms. They lay together on the floor while Kirk caught his breath.

"Wow," he finally whispered. "That didn't take too long, did it?"

"Perhaps we are both more willing to `let go' under these circumstances?" Spock raised a questioning brow and indicated the room around them.

"Maybe," Kirk agreed with a grin. "This is going to be one hell of a shore leave, Commander."

"I find I must concur, Captain. And now, I believe that I am in need of a replenishing sleep." Spock gestured formally toward the bed, incongruous considering how they were tangled together on the floor. "Perhaps you would care to join me?"

With Kirk laughing all the way, they made their way to the bed. Spock adjusted the louvers so that the sunlight was shuttered, while Kirk pulled the bedcoverings down. They met in the middle, and immediately tangled arms and legs again.

Kirk moved forward to nose aside Spock's bangs, and dropped a kiss on the pale skin of his forehead. "Thank you, my t'hy'la," he said softly. "I love you."

Spock looked at him, startled at hearing the endearment that only he had ever uttered before. Jim was looking back steadily, a soft and wonderful look in his eyes. Spock swallowed hard, not knowing how to express the emotions that filled his heart. No one had ever looked at him the way Jim did. No one could ever mean as much. His arms tightened around his friend, and brother, and lover.

"And you know that I love you, although that word alone seems quite inadequate at times."

"It's enough, Spock, enough for me." Kirk caressed along the length of a lean arm, then snuggled down on his side onto the pillow. "Let's get some rest. Sleep tight." He closed his eyes.

Unseen, Spock allowed the ghost of a smile to flit over his features. Jim so often used that childish phrase immediately before their repose. So unusual, coming from a strong starship captain. So typical, that he would have the strength to occasionally be childlike.

Spock closed his eyes as well. "Sweet dreams, Jim," he whispered.

 

 

CHAPTER THREE

"So, you gents together?" The waitress' hand hovered over her portable comp.

Startled, Kirk looked up from the menu display built into the hotel restaurant's table. He had awakened ravenously hungry, and pulled Spock down to the lobby for dinner. The grey-haired woman returned his stare for a moment, then reached out to flick invisible crumbs from the white linen table cloth.

"Need to know for the check," she explained, shrugging as she leaned over.

Kirk looked across the table at Spock, who appeared to be as discomfited as Kirk felt. He had asked Bob Wesley for a sophisticated planet, but he didn't yet know how far that sophistication went. Anyway, he was used to credit discs and computer slots in tables, not elderly female waitresses who took your order in person.

He cleared his throat, but before he could speak Spock forestalled him. "We are occupying room 327," his friend said quietly. "Would it be possible to charge our food expenses to that room?"

"That's fine," the waitress said warmly, and a smile drew up some of the wrinkles in her face as she straightened. Kirk had the distinct impression that she knew exactly what was going through their minds, and was trying to reassure them.

Kirk couldn't help himself, he had to return the smile that had reached the woman's watery blue eyes. She reminded him a little of his mother's sister, Aunt Teresa, who the last time he had seen her had tried to hide her pride in her nephew's promotion behind a series of abrupt commands to "come on over here" and "don't think you can get out of clearing off the dishes just because you're a space jockey". But then she'd seized him in the kitchen with a huge and wordless hug. He'd always enjoyed Aunt Teresa. Now, Kirk relaxed under the gaze of this woman nearly 800 light years away from the memory.

The waitress briskly pulled the stylus for her comp pad from over her ear. "Now, what'll it be? All the seafood's good...."

They wrangled for a few minutes, with the waitress decisively guiding them through the many selections. "Nope, you won't like that," she told Spock when he asked about an unfamiliar Taurean salad, and continued, when he raised an enquiring brow, "S'got something like mint in it. I know you Vulcans can't stand mint."

"That is true," Spock muttered hastily, and returned to his perusal of the menu.

Kirk ended up ordering a roast beef meal with all the trimmings, while Spock settled for some Andorian stew and salad, and when the waitress resolutely stumped away, Kirk turned to his companion and chuckled.

"I feel just like a little boy. I wonder why she didn't pat us on the head?"

Spock straightened in mock dismay. "Even my mother did not indulge in such behavior, Captain," seeming to imply that he had been much too dignified, at any age, for such frivolity.

"No? Not even when you were little?"

Spock relented. He assumed a thoughtful air. Then, "I recall an affectionate caress of my hair in my third year of life." A slight smile curved his lips. "We were alone, of course."

"Of course," Kirk echoed, but he was pleased. Spock seemed really relaxed, and Kirk always loved it when he unbent enough to make some mention of his childhood, or his parents. That was a very sensitive subject which they had yet to explore.

Spock was continuing. "Although our waitress affects somewhat casual mannerisms, she is in fact quite knowledgeable."

Kirk sat forward with his elbows on the table, unabashedly enjoying their conversation. "I didn't know that about mint. What else don't I know about you?"

Spock's eyes twinkled, although he remained straight-faced. "Less and less, it appears, but I reserve my right to retain some secrets."

Kirk chuckled, and looked down at the table. He thought about making some solemn remark about wanting to know all the secrets of his lover's soul, but getting serious like that in the middle of a restaurant, even one as unpretentious and comfortable as this one, wasn't his style.

Of course, Spock wasn't his style, period. And Kirk was consistently amazed at the flood of soft feelings that life with his very male first officer evoked. Even with his female lovers, he'd rarely been as emotional and romantic as he was with Spock.

He looked back up. "Should we take a trip out to that archeological site tomorrow?"

Spock nodded. "That would be very satisfactory. I am eager to see what so captured Commodore Wesley's attention."

They conversed like that while they waited, utterly comfortable with each other, content in each other's presence. Kirk continued to sit forward, his hands now folded with his elbows firmly planted; Spock leaned back in his chair. They'd had meals together in restaurants many times before. Kirk even marked the beginning of their short courtship, and awareness of each other as potential lovers, as starting in a restaurant on Starbase 11. But this was different. This was comfort, and ease, and a delight in each other's company that was based on something other than the sexual attraction that had sizzled between them for months. In a way, Kirk realized with surprise, this was a return to the way it had been between them before they had become lovers. Why had he been concerned about how they would get along on this leave? They'd been friends from the beginning.

After that the evening just got better. Dinner was unexpectedly delicious, the waitress became more amusing as the meal wore on, and the two of them remained focused on each other. It was a tangible pleasure to make a joke and see the answering gleam in Spock's eye. It was a live creature that purred within Kirk's heart, to see the narrow shoulders so completely relaxed, and to see Spock give in to a restrained enthusiasm as he explained the planetary development of the Fal-T system with uncharacteristic gesturing. And it filled a place in Kirk's gut that had always been hollow before, to know that Spock was just as aware as he was of their mutual enjoyment.

As they walked through the lobby to where the early evening lights of the city were just beginning to glow, Kirk found himself absolutely content with life, his companion, and especially the ten days that now stretched before them. He felt expansive, as if he could stretch his arms wide and embrace the city, the mountains that curved around it, and Spock, and all within his arms would be everything he needed. He felt filled up, completed, just like....

They stood together on the top step of the hotel, and surveyed the city as it gently sloped away from them. Kirk turned to his friend and quietly said, "Having dinner with you, Mr. Spock, is like indulging in a meld."

Spock looked startled, and obviously at a loss for words at this reference to their most intimate mental lovemaking. Kirk smiled, clapped him on the back, and said, "Let's go."

And although Spock hesitated on the upper step for a moment after his captain bounded down, he went.

The picturesque city came to life as the sun set, and they had no trouble at all finding the heart of town that throbbed with activity. A river, with wide pathways and low one-story wooden buildings alongside, wound its way through an area that was lit with gaily decorated lanterns. They cast a pleasing yellow glow on the people there. At least, Kirk thought as he passed a being with white hair, blue skin and antennae, pleasing to those of us who have evolved under a yellow sun, like Sol. How pleasing could it be to Spock, whose Vulcan ancestors evolved under the fierce red glare of Eridani, or to the Andorians with their white hot star? But the question didn't seem to bother any of the different types of beings walking along the river, indulging in dinner or the various activities that this tourist center offered.

As they strolled along the pathway Spock was quiet, but Kirk passed his silence off as discomfort in the presence of so many boisterous beings. Sometimes, he knew, his friend had to concentrate on maintaining his mental shields when he was inadvertently jostled. Or maybe Spock was still a little uncomfortable with that comment he had made about melds. Although they had started melding again, neither of them were still completely comfortable with the subject. There'd been a lot of hurt associated with their disagreement.

But even though Spock was silent, Kirk was very aware of his presence by his side. He stole a glance at the slim figure walking next to him, and had to shake his head at the flush of pleasure that washed over him. The long-sleeved black sweater that Spock wore was handsome; Kirk liked him in black. It gave him an exotic look. But even more than that, Spock was surveying the scene about them with the concentrated absorption of a scientist, and yet Kirk could also see the avid personal interest carefully banked behind Vulcan controls.

Again Kirk shook his head. He didn't understand why simply watching his friend should give him so much pleasure. It wasn't as if Spock were particularly handsome. He wasn't. His nose was too big, his skin too pale, his shoulders frequently slumped, and sometimes he was clumsy. He was so different from the many beautiful women Kirk had courted before. Above all, he was male.

But none of that seemed to matter. Spock had such unique, inner beauty that shone through to anyone who took the time to know him, and there was something... exciting, about seeing the beauty that was inside that unimposing body being expressed little by little. And some of that expression was just for him. There were parts of Spock's special inner being that only he had ever seen. And ever would see, if he had his way, and his growing thoughts about a true commitment between them bore fruit.

Kirk looked over at Spock again, enjoying how his friend's gentle attention was fastened on a native Falfurrian woman dressed in a colorful costume. He'd become a `Spock watcher', as he had often accused McCoy, almost from the beginning. Now that they shared so much, and he had so many more opportunities to watch, he knew it was an addicting activity. The way he felt now, he thought that he could watch forever. But he did wonder why Spock was being so silent. They'd had such a good time over dinner....

But as their reconnoitering stroll revealed more brightly lit shops, theaters, and signs directing visitors to various museums, Spock seemed to come out of his shell, and ventured a comment.

"There appears to be a sizable non-human population here," he said as they passed an outdoor patio where a collection of Vegans and an unfamiliar species with pointed heads were gathered around a table. The Vegans were rhythmically stamping their feet, their species' gesture of appreciation; the others were making a hooting sound with their heads thrown back on thin necks. All of them were applauding a human woman dancing vigorously in the courtyard.

"Uh-huh. But the native inhabitants are all human. I'd say the Preservers were at it again, wouldn't you?" On so many planets that they had visited throughout the galaxy, humanity was the dominant intelligent life form, a recurring coincidence that simply could not be explained away by the specious theory of parallel evolution. Many now believed that an ancient race, known only as "The Preservers", had seeded many planets in the galaxy with groups of humans, and sometimes other peoples, for whatever reason. The _Enterprise’s_ encounter fifteen months ago with Sargon, Thalassa, and Henoch had fueled the speculation within the scientific community. Kirk knew that his log tapes from that incident had been scrutinized intensely. Had those beings who had waited in their white glowing globes for so long been the last of the Preservers? Is that why Sargon had called them `my children'?

"Yes, it is likely that Fal-T was once visited by the Preservers," Spock said seriously. "The information I was able to access from our shipboard computers indicated that the evolutionary history of humans on this planet is quite abbreviated; that is one of the hallmarks of an outside influence. Did you notice the sign for a Natural History museum that we passed eleven minutes ago?"

Kirk stopped short in the middle of the walkway and stared at him incredulously. "Do you want to take a look at it?"

Spock nodded. "However, the museum is not likely to be open during the evening hours, Jim, as you well know, nor would I subject you to such on our first day here. But at some point during our stay, I would like to visit it. If you would not mind."

Kirk assented wordlessly and started walking again. With ten whole days here, there'd be plenty of time to see all the museums Spock wanted. Kirk wouldn't stand in the way of what his friend really wanted to do. As long as Spock didn't think this was an opportunity for him to do research on that pet project of his....

They walked on for a few more minutes, enjoying the evening breeze that travelled down the river's pathway. Kirk was just thinking of suggesting that they return to a little bistro they'd seen for a drink, when Spock paused before a store front whose sign presented a computer tape and a bound book side by side. It proclaimed "Information and Imagination Emporium" in Federation Standard. Spock craned his head to see through the multi-faceted window. All of the buildings that lined the riverwalk had highly decorated front fa‡ades, and the glimpses of what they housed inside were indistinct, and calculatedly tantalizing. Spock folded his hands behind his back, glanced once at Kirk, then back at the computer tape on the store's sign. He said tentatively, "I would be interested in seeing what this establishment has to offer."

"All right," Kirk said as agreeably as he could, and so their first unexpected stop was more than an hour wandering aisles filled with tapes and the unmistakable smell of glue and paper pages. The store was huge, and would require many more hours than they could give it now. Kirk found himself becoming interested despite his desire to return to the bright lights and activity of the street outside. "We'll have to come back when we have more time," he hinted over Spock's shoulder, as his friend stood poring over a fifty year old bound encyclopedia of "Alien Cultures and Customs". The picture of a Vulcan on the front cover looked a lot like Sarek.

Spock indicated two tapes and a hard copy journal he intended to purchase, explaining seriously to a startled Kirk that he had neglected to bring any reading material with him. Reading? On shore leave? That was something Kirk hadn't counted on, but if Spock was going to be immersed in a tape, maybe he'd better look for something too. It wasn't as if he didn't enjoy losing himself in a book; his mother used to have to pry him away to do his chores, and only the rigors of Starfleet Academy had been able to break his habit of reading for leisure. He'd never been able to reestablish it. On the ship it seemed that there was never any time, and he'd always been able to find something more interesting to do on leave. But now something interesting was standing right next to him, and Kirk didn't have to go out looking for company.

He ended up buying a twenty-first century Earth novel that he'd always wanted to read and a first edition of the text used for basic command training at the Academy. They had their purchases wrapped and sent back to the hotel.

They emerged back into the life and lights along the river, and Kirk resolutely steered them toward that interesting little bar he'd noticed. But before they got there, he was distracted by a loud roar and then cheering coming from another storefront.

He stooped down to peer inside the building that was sunk a good half-story into the ground, then excitedly grabbed at Spock's elbow. "It's the Tornadoes!" he said excitedly. "They've got the game on inside. Let's go!" And he bounded down the steps and through the doorway.

Spock followed him in a more leisurely fashion, pausing to examine the sign posted above the menu. "The Galactic Scoreboard," the sign garishly proclaimed, and then, in smaller print, "Sports Events from around the Federation, in Holovision! Tonight, Air Hockey! Titan Tornadoes vs. Alpha Nu Kings, first game, finals. Plus, the prize-winning performance from the Falfurrias Dance Festival."

Spock allowed himself to sigh, knowing that in the bustle and conversations all about him it would not be heard. He had never participated in team sports, and had never taken the time to understand the allure that they held for so many humans, but he knew that Jim followed Air Hockey, as did most of the crew of the _Enterprise_. He had even been a witness to a bet between the captain and the chief engineer over the outcome of this five game contest. With a resigned slump to his shoulders, Spock followed his captain into the loud and crowded room, reflexively tightening his mental shields.

Kirk waved at him from where he was seated at a long bar that faced the holo-stage. He had managed to procure what appeared to be the last two seats in the packed house. Spock picked his way through the sunken area that constituted most of the rest of the establishment, where there were numerous tables and chairs with patrons drinking and eating, all of them with their attention riveted on the holographic projection of the game taking place on the small stage at the far side of the room. There were men, women, and children present, and to Spock's surprise only a single group of beings was obviously inebriated. They were seated in the front of the room, and cheered their team on with uninhibited energy. Their activities did not seem to be of concern to anyone else. Everyone else merely seemed to be enthusiastic. Spock felt acutely out of place.

Spock eased up onto the stool that had been saved for him by his lover. He looked down at the counter. At least it was clean.

"I ordered you a whiskey and water, okay?" Kirk said, indicating the servo slot and selection pad in front of them. It was the only alcoholic beverage that he had ever seen Spock drink.

"That is acceptable," Spock returned in stately tones. He immediately chastised himself. Jim was so pleased to have found this sporting event. He must take care not to depress his friend's enthusiasms. "What is the score?" he asked, trying hard to look interested. Surely that was the suitable inquiry.

A man sitting to Kirk's left leaned over and answered. "One to nothing, middle of the first half. Tornadoes up. Hand over those chips there, would'cha?"

Spock dutifully passed the basket of dried corn chips, and then listened as the man recounted to Kirk exactly how the goal had been scored. As Spock understood it, the cushion of air upon which the players rode emanated from their skates, and could be controlled to propel them up to four meters in the air, or to the left or right. Great skill was required to handle the delicate adjustments of the air flow, and not fall prey to simple gravity, or the jostling of an opponent's shoulder. Complex acrobatic maneuvers while in the air were commonplace.

According to their talkative neighbor, the Tornadoes' star player had received a difficult pass in the basket of his stick, eluded a charging attacker by jetting up in the air with perfect timing and control, deked to the right while executing a double twist and somersault to fool the goalie, then roared in at top jet speed to stuff the puck into the top of the net.

Despite himself, Spock was impressed by this recital. There was considerable skill involved in the execution of this game. It reminded him of some of the maneuvers required during space walks. He reached for his drink, which had just appeared with a beep in the servo slot, and prepared to give his full attention to the action.

"You for the 'Nadoes?" the talkative man leaned over and asked them both. His impressive bulk upon the barstool made the action a risky one.

"I've got twenty credits riding on their win," Kirk answered promptly.

"Good," the man said with satisfaction, and stuck out a massive hand. "I'm Rathbar el-Benich. Call me Ben." Apparently, anyone backing the correct team joined his brotherhood of friends.

"Jim Kirk." The captain of the _Enterprise_ grasped his hand, then nodded toward Spock. "He's Spock. He's for the Tornadoes too."

Spock inclined his head gravely, and then returned his attention to the game. He knew that Jim made friends quite easily; he himself was more inclined to maintain a correct distance. But he was pleased that his lover had found a fellow enthusiast with whom to talk; it relieved Spock of obligations he was not certain he could fulfill.

For a while Spock concentrated on the action of the players, and spent most of the second half calculating angles and vectors. He even appreciated the physical skills displayed, and commented to Kirk and Ben on the expanded possibilities for acrobatic maneuvers if the game were played in an anti-gravity rink.

"Nah," Ben objected, and squinted so that his already small eyes disappeared further into the surrounding folds of flesh. "They tried it already. On Centaurus. Too easy. Nobody went to see it. Flopped."

Kirk grinned at Spock, then rolled his eyes, the two of them silently sharing amusement over the cryptic way in which their new friend spoke.

But then a player for the Kings suddenly scored, and the bar was filled with roars of approval and groans of disappointment. Spock jerked his head around with sudden psychic overload, squeezing his eyes shut, and strained to slam his mental shields down as quickly as possible against the emotions overflowing from the crowd. He also wished he could cover his sensitive ears with his hands, but he had learned that most humans ridiculed that gesture, and so he forestalled the almost automatic effort.

After that, the intensity among the spectators changed, as ardent loyalists for both sides urged their teams, 500 light years away, to break the tie before the game ended. Spock's attention was diverted from the drama on the holographic stage to the one being played out in the Scoreboard.

First his eyes lingered over the several families with children who were present. He had had very little contact with children in his life. He felt uncomfortable in their presence, and yet he could not deny a certain fascination with them. His own childhood had been so different from the norm experienced by most races in the Federation, indeed, different even from his fellow Vulcans, that he did not believe that he could use his personal experience as a guide in understanding the lives of these other, immature beings. Their lives were a mystery to him, as the effortless ease with which his full-blooded Vulcan contemporaries adjusted to life on Vulcan had been a mystery to him as well.

Vulcan children were so strictly raised, so sheltered within the clan. But these children on Fal-T were permitted to join with their parents even at an event where alcohol was served and inebriated beings were present. It was a mystery to Spock. Now if he had been able to have children....

The thought was a shock. He looked sideways at Kirk, who was intently watching the game with hunched over concentration, and sipping his third beer. Even if Spock's hybrid body had been fertile, which it was not, he would never have been able to have children. Not with Jim. It was a sacrifice he almost wished that he were able to make, simply to show the depth of his commitment to his lover. Even if he had wanted and been able to sire children, he would give up that dream in order to be with Jim.

It was an interesting emotion, one Spock had not previously felt. The desire to experience pain to show love, even when there was no need for the pain at all. The desire to give, even when, especially when, it involved sacrifice. Spock remembered that he had once commented to Jim that interpersonal relationships such as theirs were extremely complex. He looked at the classic profile of his lover, and almost smiled. Indeed.

Spock's gaze passed over other patrons in the bar. There seemed to be an equal number of male and female beings present, although there were some exclusively male tables and some exclusively female ones. On this planet at least, the preoccupation with sports seemed to be shared by both sexes. The tables with children all had at least four older beings present, and Spock wondered if this was coincidence or design. Were they parents and surrogates, or hired to assist with the children...?

As Spock puzzled over the sociological phenomena of human interactions, the Tornadoes launched a concerted attack on their opponent's goal, and the noise level in the bar swiftly rose as the players rushed down the rink.

Kirk stood up and pounded on the bar. "Shoot, Shoot!" he shouted. "You can't score if you don't shoot!" The noise peaked as the Tornadoes scored.

This time Spock was prepared with his shields firmly in place, and he was able to observe some of the celebration rituals of the beings around him. Many of the children were jumping up and down in excitement. At another table two humans and an Andorian female were clinking glasses together. At another, two human males were embracing and then sharing a jubilant kiss....

Spock's eyes widened. This was not a casual kiss between friends, of which he had seen many. This was a kiss with a distinctly sexual overtone. It was clear these two men were lovers, and obviously displaying that fact for all to see. Spock's gaze swiftly ran over the rest of the room. No one was paying any attention to the scene that had so caught his notice. And general expressions of joy over the goal were not confined to partners of the opposite sex; there seemed to be as many embracing same-sex couples as there were those of differing sex. Four of each, to be exact. Had Jim noticed this fascinating phenomenon? Perhaps it would make him feel easier if he knew that same-sex relationships were accepted on this world.

Spock turned to enlighten his lover, but Jim started to pound him on the back. He shouted, "Let's see if they can beat that!" Jim was clearly not in the proper frame of mind for a serious discussion.

The last five minutes of the game were played in dragged-out slow motion, with the Tornadoes anxious to protect their one goal lead and the Kings threatening in the offensive zone. Consequently, the five minutes of remaining game time transformed to thirty minutes real time, and Spock had seen as much of Air Hockey as he wished by the time the final buzzer sounded.

"Fantastic!" Kirk exulted, and Spock was pleased to see the happy glow on his lover's face. It was an agreeable coincidence that had allowed them to witness this one game of a sport Jim enjoyed. Spock inched forward in his seat, prepared to leave the establishment, when his motion was stopped as Jim asked his neighbor, "When's the next game?"

"One night off for travel," Ben returned. "See ya?"

"You bet," Kirk assured. "I wouldn't miss it." He turned toward Spock, his eyes alight. "The Tornadoes are going to cream the Kings, and Scotty will have to pay up." He shook his head and chuckled, reaching into his pocket for his credit disc. "I can't wait."

"Don't go yet," Ben's deep voice forestalled him. "You'll be sorry if you miss what's next. Won't believe it."

"I won't?" Kirk queried, his hand suspended in mid-air over the payment slot. "Try me."

Spock remained seated, but firmly wished that they were already leaving the bar, as the families with children were doing. He did not believe he wished to indulge in another sporting event, even for Jim.

Ben shook his over-sized head. "Won't. Spoil it. But it's not long. Just wait three minutes. You'll see."

Kirk threw Spock an inquiring glance. Although Spock did not wish to appear churlish, he also did not wish to remain where he was for long. His body language had surely communicated that fact to Jim. He leaned over the bar to look past Kirk to Ben.

"This next event does not require much time to witness?"

Ben wiped his mouth on his sleeve after a long draught. "Nope. Twenty minutes, max. Best show in town. Won first prize."

Spock looked at his lover, who returned his gaze with the question still in his eye. Spock observed that the muscular shoulders and strong neck were still slightly tensed from the lingering effects of the game's excitement, and the disc was no longer hovering in the air. Kirk wished to remain where he was. Spock reminded himself of his resolution to adjust to Jim's wishes, if at all possible. And it would be illogical to reject a new experience simply because it occurred within a sporting context.

Spock nodded and sat back in his seat just as the lights in the room started to dim....

 

 

Two hours later, Kirk pulled down the bedspread and flopped into their bed. "I can't believe how tired I am," he proclaimed.

"Indeed," Spock returned as he waved down the lights and slid under the blankets onto his back. "I believe the tenseness experienced while witnessing a sporting event can be quite debilitating. I, too, am fatigued."

Kirk rolled over onto his side and propped himself up on an elbow. A beam of moonlight escaped from the shuttered windows to wash over his body. "Could you believe how erotic that show was? I've seen all kinds of sexy shows on leave, but that was definitely the best."

"Although I do not have your depth of experience, I also thought the entertainment was skillfully presented."

Kirk snorted. "Skillfully! When they first came out, I thought it was just some weird golden statue. Abstract and huge. It was probably two or three minutes before I realized they were bodies wrapped around one another. And even then I still thought it was just a statue. I was shocked when they started to move."

"The being supporting the structure of bodies had great strength."

Kirk's hand went out to rest upon a Vulcan chest. He began to thread his fingers through the hair. "Yeah, like you."

Spock inhaled heavily. It was a sound Kirk had heard a few times before; he suspected his friend was suppressing a chuckle each time.

"More likely, a male from a heavy gravity planet."

Kirk's hand moved restlessly to skim over the line of collarbone. "I must have spent five minutes trying to figure out whether or not they had any clothes on. They were so wrapped up around each other. And all that gold paint didn't help. But once they started to unwind," he drew in a quick breath and said uncertainly, "I guess everyone could tell."

"Indeed."

Kirk's hand withdrew from his caress, and there was silence for a few moments. Then, "Were you offended?"

Spock tilted his head to one side against the pillow. "Interestingly enough, no. Perhaps I would have been, a year ago. But much has changed in a year." He turned so that he looked directly into his lover's hazel eyes, and gently placed his hand over the curve of a moon-lit shoulder. "You have granted me a new perspective on many things."

Kirk snuggled until their bodies were pressed close. He put one arm around his lover's waist, flung a leg over a hairier one. "Good. I was a little worried there for a while. I didn't know if you'd ever seen a sex show before."

There was that sharply indrawn breath again. Kirk wondered when, or if, Spock would ever actually succumb to the urge to laugh.

"No, Jim, I have never witnessed a sex show before, other than what you perform for me."

Kirk punched him lightly on the bicep. "That's not the same thing and you know it. Besides, I'm better than any of those guys up on the holo-stage. Aren't I?"

Spock dropped a kiss upon his forehead. "You are the most accomplished male lover I have ever known," he teased, refusing to be goaded into a compliment. Their virginity with other men had been one of the gifts they had given to each other.

"Oh, great, that really does my ego a lot of good." Kirk collapsed back onto the pillow on his side of the bed.

They both stared up at the clouds visible through the skylight, physically separated, together in their mutual amusement. The moments stretched to a minute. Spock began to consider whether he should roll over and initiate some sexual activity. But they had both already mentioned their fatigue....

"Spock?" Kirk's voice sounded subdued and strained.

"Yes, Jim?"

"During the sex show, who did you watch? The men or the women?"

Spock considered carefully before answering. The love that had caused them to turn to each other was unorthodox. And Jim had admitted he had yet to come to terms with loving another male. Spock was not sure that he himself had completely reconciled their physical interactions with his lifelong desire to be accepted as a Vulcan.

Their relationship had produced so much change in such a short period of time. This shore leave, which was utterly unique for both of them, was one example of that change. Now Jim's question probed to the heart of their insecurities. Nothing less than honesty would do for an answer.

And though Spock had never imagined that he could discuss such an intimate subject with any comfort, it was somehow easy to respond to the uncertainty he heard in the voice of the man he loved. "I watched the men, Jim," he said. His voice sounded loud as it broke the silence between them. "I noticed the women also, especially the woman at the top who was so richly endowed. But I concentrated on the men."

"Me, too," Kirk said with wonder. "I laughed at myself and said I was trying to learn a new technique, but that wasn't the truth." His hand groped for Spock's, and he gripped tightly even as his eyes remained transfixed on the night sky. "It's not that I was attracted to any of them, especially. I mean, it was just a show. I've seen so many of them before. But I've always blanked all those naked male bodies out of my mind. I never let myself notice them before. This time, I was conscious of everybody, men and women. It was so sensual, to see them slithering around each other, wrapping around another body, whether it was male or female. I thought it was... really different."

Unseen, Spock nodded. His fingers tightened around Jim's coolness in reassurance. "We are different now. I would never before have allowed myself to witness such an act. You have previously allowed yourself to react to only half of it. I cannot say that I regret the change in either of us."

Kirk turned back onto his side. His eyes ranged over the angular features of his lover with fever-bright intensity. "I don't either," he said passionately, his jaw muscles tight with feeling. "I've said it before, Spock. You open me up to myself. Since we've become lovers, I feel I am...," he struggled to express himself, "...expanding. You know I told you it was hard for me, but I like these changes. I like the person I'm becoming, with you."

Spock caressed the side of his lover's face with the tips of his fingers. "I have always admired you," he said softly. "Especially the way you respond to a challenge."

"And you're the biggest challenge of my life, aren't you?" Kirk wrapped his arms around his lover and pulled him close. He thought about all the other lovers he had pursued and won, the life that he had led that was now trembling on the verge of extinction. So strange, that now he should be directing his attentions to this skinny, very logical male....

He pulled back and gave a deliberately predatory laugh and a self-mocking smile. "You know my record, Commander Spock, don't think you can get away. Captain Kirk is in pursuit." He leaned forward and captured Spock's lips in a hard, aggressive kiss.

But he pulled back before passion could grow. "So you noticed that gal on top, eh," he teased. "I didn't know you were a boob man."

"Jim," Spock objected. "I did not exactly say...."

"Now I'm a leg man myself," Kirk continued relentlessly. "Did you see the petite gal balanced over that fat guy on the side? She had great legs!"

"The one with the hair that curled over her shoulders?" Spock asked with interest.

"Yeah. I can't say much for her choice of partners, but I loved her legs. She even had nice knees."

"I did not notice her knees," Spock said with apparent regret. "That is not normally an area that captures my attention."

"Well, next time you have the opportunity, look. I won't mind," Kirk said expansively. "Just because we know what we're ordering doesn't mean we can't read the rest of the menu."

Spock cast him a doubtful glance. "I do not believe anything could prevent you from looking. You are oriented to evaluating a woman physically, sexually."

"Yep," Kirk smacked in pride, "that's true. And I do appreciate a good-looking pair of sexy legs. Which is a shame, since you've got such scrawny ones." He heaved a loud sigh. "I really have to give up a lot."

"And since you believe me to be fixated on a woman's breasts," Spock said severely, "I too must be content with less than I desire, since you are unlikely to grow such accoutrements any time in the near future." Spock's hand snaked between their bodies and pinched a flat nipple.

"Ouch!" Kirk jerked back and grabbed at his lover's wrist. Spock did not exert his greater strength, and so Kirk forced the hand down to the mattress. "Do you have hidden sadistic tendencies, Commander?"

"I reserve the right to keep some secrets, Captain," Spock said mysteriously, and then inhaled sharply.  
Kirk laughed out loud. "Right. So you said." He released the hand and wrapped his arm around his lover again.

They stayed like that for long moments, staring into each other's eyes, Kirk's smile slowly relaxing into a loving gaze. He could hardly believe the conversation they'd just had, talking about women in a way he usually only talked to Bones, or to Scotty. He hadn't even been sure that Spock did look at women's bodies, or whether he just appreciated their intellects. Knowing that Spock did look, and appreciate, didn't threaten Kirk at all. But the confidence filled him with quiet pleasure. Spock trusted him. They could talk about anything.

Kirk sighed with comfort, and idly ran his hand over the muscles of a lean arm. The warmth of Spock's long body pressed against him felt so good; for once that warmth wasn't arousing. But after all their talk about the sex show, Spock probably expected....

"Do you want to make love?" Kirk whispered.

"I am always willing to participate in an intimate act with you," Spock evaded, "although this current closeness is also very pleasing. Do you wish to make love?"

Kirk shrugged within their embrace. "I don't know. I'm feeling awfully mellow. Making love would be nice."

"Then perhaps we should."

"And maybe we shouldn't."

"Jim...," Spock threatened.

"I know." Kirk sat up in the bed, inspired. "I'll think of five numbers from one to ten. If you can guess one of them, we'll make love. If you can't guess one, we won't."

Spock stared at him, perplexed. "You are not feeling mellow, you are feeling silly. You have total control of the outcome of this game. You could simply deny that I have answered correctly."

"You're right," Kirk readily agreed. "All right, let's do something different. You think of a number from one to five, I'll think of a number from six to ten. We'll take our numbers, add them together and divide by two. If the answer's greater than five, we make love. Okay?"

Spock continued to stare, straining to grasp the logic in his lover's proposal.

Kirk returned to the pillow. "All right, I have my number, what's yours?"

"One."

"One?" Kirk froze, then convulsed in silent laughter.

Spock waited until the merriment that shook the bed subsided. "And your number?"

"Six and a half. I didn't want to be too obvious."

Spock leaned forward and dropped a kiss on Kirk's golden hair, then rubbed his mouth against the silkiness to hide the smile that curved his lips. When he had determined to enter into a physical relationship with his captain, he had not expected to be so consistently amused. Nor had he anticipated that this first day of the leave he and Jim were spending together would be so... satisfying. It appeared that they could take pleasure in one another's company no matter what the circumstances. That was a very pleasing revelation. It augured well for their future together.

He composed his features and pulled back to speak severely, knowing that his lover would see the happiness behind the haughtiness. "It is only obvious that such a game cannot contribute to our efforts communicating. Jim, I do not wish to make love at this time. I am tired and would like to sleep. Is that acceptable to you?"

Kirk was still struggling to keep his face straight. "Yes, my most literal and determined friend. Let's sleep late."

"Agreed."

They both settled onto their backs. The moments ticked away. Spock prepared to command his body to sleep....

"But I'll getcha later."

 

 

CHAPTER FOUR

By now, Kirk was used to waking up with a warm body cuddled up close next to him. He was used to an arm flung across his chest, or a leg thrown over his own. Spock had shown this unconscious need for touch in his sleep from the very beginning of their affair, and though it had taken a little getting used to at first, now it would seem very strange to awaken without this wonderful contact. It was another indication of how much Spock needed him, and this morning, as always, the warm body pressed close to his transmitted some of its warmth to Kirk's heart. He smiled before he opened his eyes.

This time, Kirk had moved in his sleep to lie on his stomach, and so Spock was halfway on top of him, one arm possessively curved around his back and side. His lover was gently snoring in his ear.

Trapped against the pillow, Kirk shook his head. One of these days he was going to have to convince Spock that he really did snore. If they were on the ship, now would be a good time to softly tell the computer to record the rolling sounds of air vibrating in the back of his friend's throat. Spock staunchly denied that he, or any Vulcan, snored at all; Kirk consistently accused him of it. It had become a little game between them. Of course, once he produced the computer tape, the game would be over. He'd win. Spock couldn't deny the logic of real evidence. But.... Kirk's eyes scanned the room. For the moment, he was glad he didn't have access to a computer. He didn't really want to stop playing the game.

Carefully he turned his head and squinted at the chronometer. Mid-morning already! They'd better get moving if they were going to have time to visit the ruins.

"Hey," he grunted, wriggling and pushing up against the dead weight, "time to get up."  
They'd gotten used to sharing a bathroom a long time ago, although now that they were lovers the movement in and out was a lot easier than it had been before. Kirk had never achieved this unabashed sharing with any of his female lovers, not even Janice, or Ruth. Especially not Ruth. God, he'd been so young then. It was interesting how quickly he and Spock had moved into this comfortable routine. They weren't embarrassed about anything. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that they were both males. And anal intercourse had pretty effectively stripped away any remaining barriers between them. You couldn't exactly stick your fingers up somebody's ass and still feel awkward with them.

Kirk chuckled around his toothbrush, and had to chuckle again when a tousled-headed Spock walked in, relieved himself with eyes barely open, and then stood beside Kirk to wash his hands. He yawned, and began to search through his kit.

"Whatcha looking for?" Kirk spoke around the lather in his mouth.

"My depilatory. My beard is starting to grow." Spock removed a hairbrush and picked the kit up to peer inside. His eyes still looked sleepy. "I seem to have forgotten to pack it. May I borrow yours?"

Kirk rinsed his mouth out, straightened, and looked at his lover. Just the hint of a five o'clock shadow showed on Spock's face. Kirk reached out and ran a hand over his chin.

"I wonder how long it would take you to grow a beard?" he mused out loud.

"Not long," Spock answered. "I have a rather heavy growth."

Kirk dropped his toothbrush in the built-in holder. "The Spock in the other universe looked great in a beard."

Spock eyed him suspiciously. "So you have said before."

Kirk leaned back against the sink, grasping its edge in a studied casual pose. "I have a light beard. I only have to use a depilatory every month or so. I didn't bother to bring any with me."

"But I am sure I will be able to purchase some."

"Yep. Probably will. But at least for this morning, you'll have to go around," again Kirk ran his fingers over the stubble on Spock's face, "looking like that. Wicked. Sexy."

Spock sighed, walked over to the shower and adjusted the temperature setting. Kirk's eyes ranged over the long back and settled on the tight little ass. He shook his head. He did so love that Vulcan ass. Tonight. Definitely, tonight.

"I have never understood the human predilection for connecting sexual allure with evil," Spock said over his shoulder. "It is most illogical." He stepped inside the stall.

Kirk chuckled, and left to dress. If he was lucky, Spock would have a ten day growth of beard by the time they returned to the _Enterprise_. If anything could serve to remind them both that they weren't on duty, Spock looking like a gypsy would. Kirk thought that it was a very inspired idea.

Down in the lobby, the desk clerk looked shocked when they asked for the rental of a ground vehicle to take them to the ruins. "I would not recommend it, sirs." The same short man who had checked them in was on duty again. "Only children looking for treasure visit the Palutin Har, and most of them don't go back. It's not considered safe for tourists."

"May I enquire what the perceived danger is?" Spock asked smoothly.

The clerk shrugged. "There are legends... that seem to have a basis in fact. There's supposed to be a fabulous treasure buried there, but anyone who gets close to finding it has to withstand the three trials of terror." He shrugged again. "I've been there myself, when I was too young to know better, and I never felt anything. It's a very desolate place. The wind howls and plays tricks with your imagination. But I have friends who claim they felt the terror. They never went back. And the archeologists stopped looking there decades ago."

He looked at them earnestly, a dedicated employee trying to do his job. "Whether or not you believe in the treasure, the Palutin Har is a very uncomfortable place to visit, sirs, and Falfurrias is filled with many more delightful sights for visitors. May I direct you elsewhere?"

But the light of curiosity was in Spock's eyes, and even Kirk had to admit that he wanted to see the mysterious place that had spooked Bob Wesley.

"A ground car," Kirk said firmly.

He went to the hotel restaurant to pick up a picnic lunch and some fortifying supplies for the seventy-kilometer trip, while Spock went to the information desk to get the proper directional microchip to navigate their car to the ruins. Kirk saw their waitress from the previous night across the room tying on an apron, just starting her shift. He waved; she raised a bony arm in greeting and smiled.

"This ground vehicle is controlled by the city's computer network until we leave metropolitan limits," Spock commented as they wedged the food basket into a barely adequate space in the back. The rental agency had sent over a small, low-slung two-seater that was not much more than a motor and two upholstered seats. "The speed limit after that is only sixty kilometers per hour."

"That's okay," Kirk said cheerfully, and headed for the driver's seat. "I brought some extra food to eat. Here, want a...," he looked at the round yellow foodstuff he had pulled from the basket, "...want a round banana?"

"In a moment," Spock said absently, and tried to fit a box-like object he carried next to the basket. But there was not enough space, and so he walked around to the side and got in, carefully placing what turned out to be a tricorder on the floor between his legs.

"I should have known," Kirk said in half-feigned disgust, and inserted the chip to start the car. "A Vulcan and his tricorder, never to be parted. Shit, Spock, this is supposed to be leave, to get away from all of that." The car started to pull out into the light traffic.

"Why should I wish to be parted from an instrument that will grant us knowledge?" Spock queried defensively.

Kirk rolled his eyes. "No reason at all. I don't know why we didn't bring Lieutenant Pritinkin along, too; she's the expert on archeology. We could have put her on top of the basket back there."

"Jim," Spock admonished, his lips twitching, "what an undignified position for a woman of the Lieutenant's years." Pritinkin was sixty if she was a day.

Kirk reached forward to minutely adjust the fuel mix. "Yeah, well, I've seen my share of undignified positions, and there's definitely something to be said for them."

The scenery along the road to the Har was spectacular enough to dominate their conversation. The mountains that surrounded Falfurrias kept pace with the highway for many kilometers, each snow-capped peak higher than the one before. Once Kirk had satisfied himself that he was familiar with the car controls that had now been released from the computer network, he drove slowly, one eye fastened on the majestic sight of the planet reaching to touch the sky. On any planet, he always loved mountains.

Most of the light traffic that accompanied them out of the city turned off at one or another of the local roads that led up to the hills. There were a variety of recreational paths that made their way over rope-bridged ravines and up to high-peak meadows. They made plans to come back and take a day-long hike later in their leave.

After a while the mountains turned inland. The road they were on started the long journey to the sea many kilometers away. The landscape grew noticeably drier, and flatter. The verdant vegetation that grew all about Falfurrias retreated into stands of stunted trees and small flowering bushes that scented the air with yellow blossoms. The grass began to grow in tufts instead of carpeting the landscape, with something that looked like moss in the spaces in between.

A few more kilometers away from the mountains the elevation dipped. Soon they were driving along a salt flatÙkilometer after kilometer of desolation and a fine white film that encrusted the landscape even over the rolling undulations of the sand dunes. Scraggly long grass grew here and there, and the sky loomed large above their tiny vehicle. They hadn't passed another sign of civilization for almost thirty minutes.

"A most unattractive habitat," Spock commented as they swept past the decaying carcass of an animal on the side of the road.

It was on the very edge of the salt flat, just where plant life was beginning to make a stand again, that they came to the Har. There was a huge mound in the back, almost a hill, flanked by smaller mounds curving around it to both sides. Within their encircling embrace was a long, low crumbling wall, and within that an extensive array of crumbling ruins of human habitation. The ubiquitous moss covered the mounds, except in the places where bare rock showed like pimples in the earth. Some of the yellow flowering bushes here and there were the only reassuring signs of life.

"Not the most welcoming place I've ever driven for an hour and a half to see," Kirk commented as they got out of the car. "Feel any sudden surges of terror?" He'd parked along the side of the road, still a good hundred meters away from the first mounding of dirt that proclaimed the presence of an intelligence from long ago. The wind whistled in his ears and whipped through his hair. The sun pounded down on them and made Kirk grateful he'd worn a short-sleeved shirt.

"No." Spock looked around. "Although I can understand why many humans would find this environment unattractive. It is reminiscent of some of the milder reaches of the Sasashar desert region on Vulcan."

"Where a mouse wouldn't find enough to live on, and a lizard would bake," Kirk guessed.

Spock favored him with a bland look. "Correct, although colloquially put. Vulcans have, of course, resided there for several thousand years." He settled the strap of the tricorder around the bulky shoulder of his white sweater.

Kirk looked up at the top of the largest mound, then focused on the ruins. "Well, let's reconnoiter. Tell me if you feel anything. I'll let you know if I break out into a cold sweat."

They paused at the first broken wall of mudbrick, and looked inside at what it once had protected, so long ago. The fallen remains stood bleakly in the sunlight. Whatever had once served for roofs had disintegrated, but the outlines of rooms and corridors, all connected into one communal fortress, could be clearly seen. Kirk propped one foot on the fallen jumble of the protective rock wall and contemplated the scene.

There had been life here once, fairly primitive life by his standards, a life intertwined with the elements. Wind and rain, the sunshine and the cycle of growing plants, were the entire world for the long-ago inhabitants of this place. It was an entirely different rhythm than the one that `modern man' experienced. On Earth, people who lived in villages like this had looked at the heavens, told tales to explain the flaming brilliance of the stars, the startling appearance of comets, the stately parade of the constellations across the sky. What had these people seen, here on the third planet of the Fal-T system? If they were indeed descendants of humans brought by the Preservers, did their tales include a metal chariot, with gods who gave them new life?

Kirk cleared his throat and turned to his companion. Spock looked contemplative, too, and Kirk wondered what thoughts were passing through his friend's mind. This place did seem to inspire a serious frame of mind.

"I saw ruins like this when I was eight, in New Mexico. This is typical stone-age construction."

"Indeed. I would estimate the age of the buildings to be no more than...," Spock consulted his whirring tricorder, "...one thousand five hundred Earth years." He looked up from the data racing across the tiny screen. "They are in remarkably good repair."

They took their time exploring. Kirk even forgot the warnings about terror, and the mysterious treasure. He was genuinely interested in the ruins and the people who used to live here, and it was a pleasure to share that interest, on a strictly casual basis, with Spock.

They scrambled over the fallen rock and walked along in the meter wide space between walls that seemed to make passageways between dwellings. Every six meters or so the corridor widened to become a room. Kirk couldn't help but populate them with people from the past, and wonder over and over again about what life had been like for them. He'd done the same thing when his family had visited those ruins on a rare vacation together. He'd imagined that he could almost hear the chanting of the Indians back then, and he'd eagerly raced around each corner thinking he would find... something. Some other little boy, like himself, playing with a coyote cub, maybe, or running away from his mother's call to play or simply staring up at the stars at night. He'd left with his family that day with a vague sense of dissatisfaction, as if there were something really there that he could have seen if only he'd looked a little harder.

Thoughts about that Indian boy he hadn't seen had followed him all that summer long, and twice he'd convinced Sam to pretend they were Indians camping out in the back field. They'd built a tepee out of old sheets and blankets, and while it wasn't the adobe dwelling he'd wanted, for a while young Jimmy Kirk had been satisfied.

And now as he walked along the same pathways that ancient peoples had walked along fifteen hundred years ago, Kirk felt the same kind of wonder envelop him. Much of the building material had crumbled and blown away in the wind; some of it crunched under their feet. Fancifully, he thought that it sounded like bone being worried by a predator. He shook the thought away.

Sometimes the walls were three meters tall, and closed away the harsh outside. They could tell that parts of the fortress had actually been two stories high, although it was hard to know if the top story had been lived in or merely used for storage. Most of the time only part of the wall to either side remained. But enough of the brick was there so that they could make educated guesses about room size and shape, and, occasionally, function. They found a room where there were holes designed to hold supporting poles chiseled into the rock, running up the corner.

"Shelves?" Kirk hazarded a guess.

"Probably to hold foodstuffs," Spock agreed.

Kirk glanced over a fallen section of rock to the barren landscape outside. From the way the bushes were bending, the wind wasn't blowing quite as hard as it had been when they first arrived. But it was still making an eerie sound as it traveled around the corners of this forgotten place.

He returned his attention to Spock. "Hard to imagine how they found enough to eat here."

"Agreed, although the climate was undoubtedly milder then. This is not a logical place in which to plan a population center. However, primitive peoples often built for other reasons."

Kirk nodded thoughtfully. "You mean religious reasons. Some of the Indians of the American Southwest were like that. They built where they could worship best, and damn the discomfort."

"Yes." They began to move through the rubble to the next room, heads down, shoulders almost brushing, consulting as they had consulted hundreds of time before, walking around the upper level of the bridge on the _Enterprise_. "It would be logical to assume a religious, or some other motive for the village here." Spock arched an eyebrow and looked at Kirk expectantly.

His faith in his captain's reasoning abilities was well-founded. "You think there was a religious significance to this site, and that it's connected to the local legend of something fabulous being buried here."

"It is a possibility." Spock actually shrugged, but Kirk could see the light of determination in his friend's eye.

They walked on, heading in unspoken agreement for the part of the ruins that was most well preserved, the only independently standing building in the community. It was within the center courtyard of the fortress, and most of the walls, for whatever reason, were almost entirely intact. They towered almost five meters over them. There were even several ancient wooden beams crisscrossing overhead. Kirk eyed them with misgiving, wondering what it would take to have them come crashing down. The wind whispered over their heads, not able to reach inside.

They didn't need to observe the pit in the center of the large room to guess that this had been a ceremonial gathering place. Kirk peered inside the depression, then turned on his heel to survey what was left of the built-in bench that ran almost all the way around the circular room. Seats? For participants in some ritual? Valued resting places for representations of gods? Or just a storage area for grain? Would they ever know?

Spock was already heading toward something else. Here, protected from the elements, they found something new. Carved low upon the only section of wall not interrupted by the curious shelf, were delicate tracings from long ago. Animals, plants, bipedal figures with spears in their hands, all frozen in action upon the ancient rock walls, etched into the stone with some sharpened prehistoric implement.  
Spock stooped before an especially complex web of tracery. Kirk had to smile as he watched the _Enterprise’s_ science officer go down on his hands and knees to delicately blow some of the dust from the fine lines. Spock was in his element. Kirk dropped down to his haunches beside his friend and began to carefully examine the carvings.

"Some of these are really stylized, almost abstract," he commented, talking loud enough to be heard above the tricorder that was recording part of their discovery.

"Yes," Spock answered, distracted. "I cannot yet discern a meaning...." His voice trailed away as he concentrated.

Kirk looked at the part of the tableau immediately before him. Four circles. Some lines radiating out from two of them, like a child's representation of the rays of the sun. Two squiggly lines over each of the circles. The other two smaller ones were crisscrossed with lines, like eggs that had been decisively cracked.

Right next to the cracked circles were the unmistakable forms of bodies. Obviously dead bodies, each with the head decapitated and appearing to one side. Squiggly lines from the head represented blood, Kirk realized, as he squinted to see here in the dimmer light.

He pointed to the images of what had to be sacrificial victims, not wanting to touch. "There's always a serpent, isn't there?" he asked bitterly. The pastoral people he'd been imagining had possessed a darker side.

"Perhaps," Spock returned, "although these representations may be merely symbolic."

But as Kirk scanned all the figures on the entire wall, he began to doubt the reassuring words. Each victim shown, whether beheaded, or gored by spears, or choked on the long sea grass, was shown next to one of the cracked discs. One disc, one body. Ten, no eleven of them, arranged carefully in an oval on the wall, seeming to represent some sort of cycle, with the two unblemished circles standing guard above them all.

Kirk reached out to run his fingers over one of the etched figures, feeling a strange reluctance to do so, and then sat back upon his heels. The faint lines made him feel uneasy; even more, actually repelled him. And yet they had survived all this time, merely lines chiseled into rock. What were they? A primitive people's concept of the soul? The representation of some god they were trying to appease? A combination of the two?

Kirk caught an apprehensive breath and turned it into a firmer respiration. Seeking distraction from his unwanted emotions, he turned to look at Spock.

His companion sat cross-legged in the dirt, staring unblinking at the wall. Kirk was caught by the look of utter concentration upon his face, and by the tension in the bowed shoulders. He glanced at the etchings again, then back at Spock, who was sitting perfectly motionless. Kirk couldn't even see his chest move as he breathed. He had witnessed this stillness descend upon his first officer before, when Spock's telepathic senses were engaged or on a planetary survey when they suspected trouble and could not define it. But then Spock's intellect had been directed outward, in defense of the ship, in defense of his captain. Now the mental effort was concentrated inward, and Kirk thought that he could almost see the synapses working toward some magnificent synthesis.

He was awed and humbled by the vision before him. He was guilty of overlooking the scientist for the lover. How could he forget Spock's fierce search for knowledge, his effort to make sense of an uncaring universe? It was a lifelong endeavor. That search defined his friend as surely as the blue Starfleet uniform he had chosen to wear and the pointed ears that labeled him Vulcan. This motionless, concentrating Spock was another wonderful, exciting manifestation of all that his lover was. And Kirk found the sight intensely exciting.  
Where before Kirk had been made uneasy by the dancing figures of humanoid sacrifice, now he felt a growing exultation. He trusted Spock, trusted his carefully trained and finely tuned intellect. If there were an explanation possible, Spock would find it. Suddenly, there was an air of expectation, of new discoveries in the dim light of this ancient room.

"What?" Kirk breathed. He was almost afraid to speak, to disturb whatever complex thought processes were whirling about in Spock's brain. But he was just as eager to be admitted to the light that was just now beginning to dawn in the brown eyes.

Spock finally moved. He took a deep breath, and turned to Kirk, utterly composed. Only the smallest trace of animation could be detected in his deep voice. "Do you remember the globes in which Sargon and Thalassa waited?"

Kirk's eyes widened, and darted back to the tableau on the wall. "Preservers? Here? Thirteen of them?"

"Yes," Spock nodded, and got back up on his knees. His long fingers grazed the two globes that had lines radiating out from them. "Two of them still alive at the time this rendering was made."

"Yes," Kirk breathed, as always conscious of the way their minds worked together. Usually it was Spock following him in a command decision, tempering his leaps of intuition with logic, supporting him with facts and justifications. But now here was an opportunity for him to support Spock. Now that the foremost scientist on the _Enterprise_ , possibly in the entire Starfleet, had made the connection, it almost looked obvious.

Kirk gestured to the wall. "And the other eleven died. Like the ones that were in the inner chamber with Thalassa and Henoch."

"Agreed. They were not immortal, despite their immense powers."

Kirk looked at one of the bipedal images on the wall. "And the people who lived here held a human sacrifice," he swallowed, "each time a globe's light died."

"That would be my working hypothesis, yes," Spock softly concurred.

Kirk looked down at the dirt, at where his knees had made little imprints in the soil that had been walked upon by... what? Certainty filled him, and a quiet exultation. This felt right! Sargon's people had been here. The explanation fit, here in this long abandoned room, with the wind moaning outside as if to mourn the long dead. It fit the startling images they'd discovered, and the isolation of the ruins on the edge of the salt plain.

Spock interrupted his musings. "However, this theory is blatantly speculative. I feel constrained to point out that we are reaching conclusions with very little data."

Kirk looked at him. "Illogical, Science Officer?" he asked with a smile and a shake of his head. "That's not like you."

Spock raised a mild brow. "No, merely precipitous. Perhaps. We must ask ourselves why others have not reached the same conclusions of the presence of the Preservers here, perhaps found concrete physical evidence of the globes. There has been speculation of their existence in the Galaxy for many years."

Kirk got up on his knees and leaned forward. "But only the _Enterprise_ has ever met them," he argued earnestly. "Only we would recognize these globes for what they are."  
"For what they might be," Spock commented automatically. He always strove for accuracy.

Kirk reached out to poke at a lean shoulder. "Oh, go ahead, depress my pretensions all you want. I think you're right. If a local archeologist found the remains of a globe, he or she couldn't possibly have connected it with the Preservers. Only you could have. Besides, with this local legend of fear, probably nobody looked too hard."

Spock nodded, unruffled by the teasing touch that would have so discomfited him six months ago. "We must contact the proper authorities with our theories when we return to town. Perhaps the director of the Natural History Museum would be the appropriate person." He extended a hand to help pull Kirk up.

"What I don't understand," Kirk thought out loud while he dusted his jeans off, "is how this fits into the legend." He was warming to the intellectual challenge, could feel the excitement of a puzzle on the verge of being solved. Is this how Spock felt too? "A real, living Preserver would be a treasure, the natives probably thought they were gods in their midst. Even if they didn't communicate, lights that glowed without fire and all that. But what about the fear business? How did that get started?"

They started walking back the way they had come. "I agree. That is an obstacle. Another problem with our theory is why the superior beings did not attempt to take over the bodies of the more primitive peoples, as they did with our own. Globes would not then be necessary." Spock spoke levelly, although Kirk was aware how distressed he was over the use Henoch had made of his body. That whole episode had been unnerving, for both of them.

"Maybe they had scruples about it?" Kirk suggested. They scrambled over rock piled on a doorway. "Or maybe the natives weren't advanced enough to do them any good? They wouldn't have had anything to slow down their metabolism. A body wouldn't have lasted them for long."

"Or perhaps the Preservers possessed the bodies of natives for a limited time, and the carvings we saw were merely the last host bodies before they expired."

"Ugh." Kirk made a face. "That's possible, I suppose. The thought makes my skin crawl. Which reminds me, have you felt any of this eerie fear that Bob told me about?"

They climbed over the crumbled rock through which they had first entered the ruins, and started to walk back to their vehicle. The sun was halfway down the horizon already, and the wind had died to a gentle, occasional breeze. Somewhere far off, a bird cawed in the sky. The site was just as barren as it had been when they started, but somehow it was not quite so forbidding. Maybe because it had given up its secret?

"Negative. Whatever trepidation I experienced could easily be explained by the environment and the nature of our discoveries."

Kirk laughed, a loud clear sound that seemed to cleanse the air all about them and make the sun shine ever brighter. He threw an arm around Spock's shoulders. "Thank you, Mr. Science Officer, for that comprehensive answer. You know, this has got to be the easiest landing party duty I've ever pulled. Oh, pardon me, I almost forgot, this is shore leave."

Spock shared his sudden amusement. He allowed a smile to tease his lips, hunching up the shoulder on which Kirk's hand rested. "Indeed. I am hardly likely to permit you such liberties while on duty."

Kirk's hand tightened. His own smile got brighter, and for a moment they shared the special connection of discoverers in a new world....

And then his hand dropped, and he punched in the vicinity of Vulcan ribs. "Come on," he growled happily, "let's go get some lunch. I'm starved."

 

 

CHAPTER FIVE

They ate in companionable silence, sheltered by a clump of yellow-flowering bushes to one side and one of the walls that had survived the years intact at their backs. When Kirk finished he leaned against the rocks, squirmed a little against the moss-covered ground to find the most comfortable position, and sighed with satisfaction.

This had been a really enjoyable day. A good meal, bright sunshine, Spock exploring at his side.... This leave was turning out just the way he'd hoped it would. That special affinity between the two of them was working even here, so far away from the _Enterprise_ , and their roles as captain and first officer. Even the thought of openly acknowledging the change in his sexuality seemed possible now. Every hour was reaffirming all the thoughts he'd had of open, formal commitment and permanency.

He looked up at his companion, to find the brown eyes resting on him. There was a curiously gentle look in his friend's gaze.

"What?" Kirk asked.

"I believe it would be appropriate for me to express my thanks to you for participating in this activity. I am aware that this expedition would not be your first choice of amusement."

Kirk hadn't known that Spock was aware of it. He looked down, examining a smear of green moss on his fingers, wondering if it had seemed to Spock that he was only here out of a sense of duty, and not because of companionship.

He looked back up at his expectant friend. "I've enjoyed myself today," he said simply. "It's been fun."

Spock nodded, accepting what Kirk said. "I, too, have experienced pleasure today. You do not often have the opportunity to join me on scientific ventures while on the _Enterprise_."

Kirk was struck by the quiet words. For how many years had Spock wanted to share the thrill of a scientific discovery, and turned to find no one by his side who could understand his form of Vulcan-restrained excitement? Well, that had changed now. He was by Spock's side, literally and figuratively. Kirk was very, very glad that they'd come to the Palutin Har today.

He plucked a yellow flower from a bush and started to tear at its petals. "I don't imagine you were thrilled with the Tornadoes last night."

"On the contrary," Spock said, straight-faced, "I found the evening to be an... interesting experience. I have never before witnessed you exhorting a holographic image with a tankard of alcoholic beverage in your hand. The action revealed a new aspect of your personality."

"Oh, great," Kirk groaned, covering his eyes, "I already apologized for spilling on you." He removed his hand to see a very obvious twinkle in his friend's eye. "You are a fake," he accused with a pointing finger. The fingers curled to beckon. "Come here."

Spock promptly complied, scooting over so that he was sitting next to Kirk against the wall. They each leaned forward at the same time, and their lips met in a kiss.

It wasn't desire that Kirk felt. Desire he knew well; it sizzled straight through his cock and then went on to fill the rest of his body. Desire was red heat. Desire was taking, a peak building, building..., and then it was over. That was nothing like what he was feeling now. This was a much more subtle sensation, and yet more pervasive too. It wasn't confined to any one part of him, but seemed to fill everything that he was; his heart, his soul, his mind as well as his body. Holding Spock in his arms, kissing him under the bright blue sky, feeling the warmer lips part and mold themselves to his own.... How was it that he could feel so much?

They pulled apart as gently as they had come together. Kirk reached up to caress the side of the thin face with his fingertips. "The things you make me feel, lover," he whispered.

Spock made no response, but Kirk could tell by the glow in the brown eyes that the Vulcan heart was filled with emotion too. They kissed again, the merest touch, but quickly drew apart. It seemed to be very important to be able to look upon the sharp planes of the angular face, to be able to trace the curve of eyebrow, the curve of his lover's lower lip.

Spock felt the moment too. Easily, as if it were something they did every day, he turned and laid his head in Kirk's lap and stretched his long legs out upon the ground. His eyes were alight as they looked up into Kirk's face.

"It is remarkable how comfortable the ground can be," he said, "when the appropriate pillow can be found."

Kirk rested his hand on Spock's side. Even through the thickness of the sweater he could feel the tickle of the Vulcan heart. "I'll be your pillow anytime, love."

They were silent for awhile. Spock captured one of Kirk's hands in his, and Kirk stroked the dark hair over and over again. He looked out upon the bleak landscape that was yet so beautiful, and felt a great contentment wash over him.

Kirk glanced down to find that Spock's eyes were still trained upon his face, had probably never left him. Kirk smiled.

"I've never been like this with anybody else, you know," he said wonderingly. "You make me feel so... peaceful. You make me feel...," he paused, groping for words, trying to explain this feeling to both himself and his lover. Then the right word occurred to him, and he gave a short laugh. "You make me feel romantic. Isn't that funny? Why should I feel that way with you, another man? A Vulcan?"

Spock shook his head, the motion against Kirk's legs a distinct, and yet oddly non-physical pleasure. "I do not know. If I understand the term correctly," Spock's brow wrinkled, "you are referring to the emotion that compels humans to present their lovers with tokens of their affection. A sentimentalized version of love."

"Uh-huh," Kirk agreed. He hesitated, then, "Like this." He leaned over to one of the flowering bushes and plucked a yellow blossom. "For you." His color was a little heightened, but he pressed it into Spock's hand.

Spock looked down at the flower, then wordlessly back up at Kirk. His eyes asked a question.

"Romantic means other things too." Kirk was looking anywhere but at where the long fingers clutched the blossom. He returned to stroking Spock's hair.

"I am aware of that," Spock returned evenly. He wondered why Jim was pursuing this subject if it caused him discomfort. He exhibited an interesting dichotomy between words and action. But perhaps the discomfort was actually something else. Could Jim be embarrassed by his own emotions? "However, you are also aware of my history of limited emotional interaction. I have never been the recipient of romantic gestures before. Nor have I any skill in perpetrating them."

"I know," Kirk sighed. "That makes me happy and sad at the same time." His hand paused, playing with the tip of an ear. "I've always thought that being romantic was something I did for the woman I was with, because she expected it. Now I'm finding out with you," he smiled, "that I'm just a sappy sort of guy. You bring out the marshmallow in me, Spock."

Spock traced along the curve of his lover's jaw with the flower. "It is so unusual to see you struggling to express an emotion. I had thought that was my...," he cocked an eyebrow, "specialty."

Kirk choked back a laugh, then stared down at his lover. "There you go again. Making me think mushy thoughts. What's a starship captain to do?"

"Succumb to the inevitable?" Spock suggested. "Unless you intend to limit our emotional interaction, or terminate our intimate relationship," a quick negative gesture from Kirk, "then I suggest we allow ourselves to experience whatever our association brings us."

"Highly logical, Commander." Kirk swept him a seated bow. "Succumb, huh? All right."

His hand reached out and ruffled through Spock's bangs. He pushed them to one side, the tips of his fingertips brushing over the white skin of his lover's forehead. Then he traced a line straight down the long nose, and rubbed the backs of his fingers all over the dark growth that was Spock's beard just beginning to appear. He ended by lightly skimming over the relaxed lips.

Spock remained quiet under the loving touch and prepared himself to accept whatever form his lover's romanticism was going to take. Odd, how he would have staunchly denied wishing to experience such an emotion with any other being in the universe, and how it seemed very important to encourage its free expression in Jim now. It was fascinating, the way his lover was looking down at him, with just the lightest of smiles on his slightly parted lips, and surely the softest eyes that any Vulcan had ever had the good fortune to look upon. The wind had ruffled the fine hair so that it was slightly disarrayed, the way it sometimes looked after they had interacted physically. Jim looked very handsome. Something stirred inside Spock, from that unnamed place where his emotions lived.

His lover bent over him, curling as if to protect him from the slanting rays of the sun. "I don't ever want anything to hurt you," Kirk whispered intensely. His fingers settled along Spock's cheek. "I want to keep you safe. I'd do anything to keep you from being hurt."

Spock was uncertain of the proper reply. The logic of the statement was faulty. As Starfleet officers in their current assignments, their safety could not be a motivating factor in their actions. They had already discussed and faced this unpleasant fact. Jim was well aware of their duty. But Jim was an emotionally complex and extremely intelligent being. His words could not be taken at face value alone.

Spock understood the concern from which Jim's illogical promise had sprung. He had experienced similar thoughts from the very earliest days of their friendship, and had counted one of his few pleasures his ability to watch over his captain in dangerous situations. It had been his right, as first officer. But now their situation had changed. Jim was claiming a very different sort of right, the privilege of a lover, the claim of possession. They had not spoken like this to each other since before the dispute that had separated them, and made them both doubt....

"Yes," Spock breathed, wishing he could find another word to signal the affirmation that was surging through his heart, filling up all the spaces in his life. "Yes...." He caught up one of Jim's hands and held it tightly between his own. He looked deeply into the hazel eyes, willing Jim to understand exactly what this moment meant to him, to them both. What was it they would grant each other with these words? Their futures? "You may keep me safe, Jim, if you give to me the same privilege." Spock felt as if he had just invoked an ancient god, as if the words were a pledge witnessed by the universe.

And the moment was just as sacred to his lover. Spock had not misinterpreted. The connection that the moment of creation had forged between them was singing with energy now.

Eyes shining, slowly Kirk raised their joined hands to his lips. "You'll always have that privilege. I think you always have." And he kissed the fingers of each hand.

Always. The wind began to stir, making the leaves of the bushes touch each other, rubbing their green life together. On the horizon, a far away bank of clouds told of rain, nourishing the land. Always. Spock sighed. The gods of the universe nodded.

Then Jim released his hand, brushed his bangs back, and extended one finger to move purposefully upon his forehead. Jim's face was intent, he was bent upon some important task, but Spock could not immediately comprehend what.

"What are you doing?" Spock whispered. A louder sound seemed impossible after the cataclysm of emotions that they had both just survived.

"Shhhh," Kirk smiled as he cautioned, "concentrate."

Again the strong finger moved, and this time Spock attempted to interpret. Was that a straight horizontal line, connected to a vertical line with a hook at the end? A "J?" Followed by a vertical line standing alone?

Comprehension dawned as the third letter was completed. JIM.

"You should not have written that on my forehead," Spock said seriously. "Your name belongs here." He took his lover's hand and guided it to his side. "Over my heart."

Kirk smiled down at him, but he had the look of a man with unfinished business. He extricated his hand, and returned to his work inscribing on his lover's body.

It took less time to interpret this second word, now that Spock comprehended the method. A vertical and horizontal line joined, a circle... LOVES. Spock said it out loud and Kirk nodded silently. His eyes were very bright.

"You have taught me the meaning of that word," Spock whispered. "You have shown me a new universe." Jim had been right to be cautious about these `romantic' gestures. Spock felt as if he were melting, drowning in an emotional intimacy that echoed only faintly of the body. Had they needed to establish their physical intimacy before this mine of golden emotion could be plumbed? He had not known this depth of feeling was within him. But Jim had known. Only Jim had the power to call it forth.

The third word was inevitable. As Spock felt the letters of his own name being inscribed so lovingly on his forehead, he felt invested with a new power. Jim loved him enough to claim a right of possession. To Jim, his very existence was important, even essential. Not who he might become, not some fantasy image of imagination. Him. Spock. The half-breed who had built walls and developed strength to guard himself against hurt. With his human lover, who accepted all that he was, Spock completely realized his own worth. Jim loved him.

As Jim's finger upon him stilled, Spock could only stare up at him wordlessly, awed at the gift this man gave to him. But it was returned. Every gift, every gesture of love Spock wanted to give in double measure back to Jim....

His hand reached out and brushed against the fabric of his lover's shirt. He could feel the steady beat of the slow human heart pushing against the palm of his hand. Then he extended one finger, and began to inscribe all that Jim was to him....

"T'HY'LA," Jim whispered. "Yes. You are. I am." And then they were in each other's arms.

As they rocked against each other, Spock's fingers sought the meld points. The body was simply not expressive enough. Only their mental lovemaking could possibly convey all that was in his soul now.

"Join with me," he whispered into the rounded ear.

"Yes...," Kirk proclaimed again, and as their minds crossed the threshold into the same golden world, Spock heard what else his lover had been thinking. "...Forever."

 

 

Before Spock pulled out of the meld, he eased Kirk into a restful sleep. That had been part of their difficulty when they argued. The act of melding as deeply as they both wanted to was a draining experience for the human body, and although Spock had learned to make adjustments in his technique so that Jim no longer emerged from the event exhausted, his lover still benefitted from rest after the experience. He would have denied such weakness, but Spock had felt the weariness descend upon his lover during the last stages of their mental joining.

It was one of the reasons why they no longer joined mentally as frequently as they had at the beginning of their relationship, and why Spock was careful to initiate the meld when an opportunity for repose at its conclusion would be available. It was not an ideal state of affairs, but it appeared to be working for them.  
Spock opened his eyes, squinting in the sunlight that angled over the low wall directly into his eyes. It was mid-afternoon. The daylight would be gone in a few hours.

He looked into the face of his lover, lying so peacefully across from him upon the moss-covered ground. Their bodies had fallen apart after the intensity of the meld, and now Jim curled within his sleep. Spock resisted the temptation to touch the soft skin at the juncture of jaw and neck. He would allow Jim a full, restful sleep.

Spock sat up and arched his back to shake out the discomfort of the hard ground. He looked around, searching for an appropriate location to relieve himself, then walked to a copse of bushes several meters away. That accomplished, and the lunch already packed away, he settled down to wait until Jim awakened.

But while Spock waited he began to think about the etchings they had discovered on the wall, and the conclusions they had drawn. If they were correct, Falfurrias would soon be the center of activity as many scientists descended on Fal-T 3 to examine the Palutin Har. More conclusive evidence of the Preservers had not yet been uncovered anywhere in the Federation; their finds today constituted a major breakthrough in the understanding of the history of the galaxy.

Spock experienced a twinge of regret. He would have liked to participate in expanding his theories, and in unearthing more evidence for them. Of course, his work on the _Enterprise_ precluded such a possibility, and his relationship with Jim prevented him from requesting even a temporary leave of absence.

It was unfortunate that he could not use the remainder of his leave time now to search out all that he could about the site, but again that was not possible. Jim expected a companion during this time, not an elusive scientist with `his head buried in a tricorder'. Spock had heard the teasing too often already. He would not give Jim the opportunity to repeat it. But if he were truthful with himself, and such self-knowledge was always beneficial, his desire to study the Har warred with his desire to continue this leave exactly as it had started. With Jim.

However.... Spock looked at his companion, still breathing evenly upon the ground. Jim looked comfortable, and there were no dangerous animals on this hemisphere of Fal-T 3. They had encountered no other intelligent beings during their hours here. The Palutin Har had a well-deserved reputation as a deserted site. Jim would not come to harm if Spock used the last remaining hours of sunlight to explore.

In a moment Spock was on his feet. Jim would understand where he was as soon as he awakened, and call for him. His own sensitive ears would hear. Eagerly, Spock turned to the fascination of a mystery only partially solved.

He started by walking completely around the ruins and the mounds, an evaluation he had wanted to perform when they had first arrived, but which he had deferred because of Jim's intent to immediately examine the crumbled buildings. There were five mounds, and his tricorder told him that four were approximately seven meters tall at their highest point. The one in the back of the complex towered more than 20 meters in the air.

Throughout the galaxy, native cultures had found ways to honor their dead, and burial mounds were common from Earth to Vega. It was logical to assume that the larger mound could hide an underground chamber, inhabited by the remains of a local leader. If they were fortunate, further representations of the Preservers would decorate its walls. The remains of a globe would be an extraordinary find.

But if the mound sheltered a chamber, the tricorder could not locate it, so visual inspection would be required. Spock slung the tricorder back over his shoulder and prepared to hike to the top of the hill.

But before he had taken even a single step upwards, he glanced back toward where he had left Jim sleeping. He felt suddenly apprehensive. From where he was standing, he could not see his lover. But all was quiet. Far away, clouds were building upon the horizon, presaging a coming storm. And the wind had suddenly stopped blowing. Spock tore his eyes away from the direction where Jim lay and shook his head in self-reprimand. The lack of wind, and a changing atmospheric pressure, were undoubtedly the reasons for his abrupt unease. It was illogical to allow the natural elements to affect one's perceptions.

Unnecessarily resettling the strap around his shoulder, Spock stepped resolutely forward.

He climbed steadily. The moss-covered ground made it difficult to maintain his balance; his feet kept slipping out from under him. And although there were a few stunted bushes to provide handholds, the shrubs had sharp thorns that discouraged him from reaching toward them after the first stinging handful. He found that the best method of locomotion was scrambling upwards on hands and knees. The tricorder bumped and swayed against him as he struggled toward the top.

Spock was breathing heavily, and he stopped to pull air into his lungs, crouching upon the slope like some great cat about to spring. He balanced against the knuckles of his left hand and put the right to his forehead in an instinctive, thoughtless gesture. It was only then that he realized, in the act of wiping the film from his skin, that he was sweating.

He pulled his hand back and stared at it in amazement. Yes, his forehead was definitely perspiring. And his hand was shaking, fine tremors that were reminiscent of his pon farr.

Angrily, Spock whipped his hand behind his back to hide that reminder of the shameful episode from his past. But at the same time that he succumbed to the surprising emotion, he also realized its source. His body was exhibiting every symptom of an overwhelming and unreasoning fear. The legend of the Palutin Har was true.

His trembling hands were evidence. The dryness of his throat, the impossible, panic-stricken beating of his heart in his side were evidence. Helplessly, Spock pitched forward, his two hands splayed upon the ground, adrenalin-produced weakness forcing his head to roll weakly forward, merely hanging. He had no choice but to give in to the tremors that rocked his body. All of the strength left him in a rush, and he fell to the ground.

Spock barely had the strength to roll over onto his side as he collapsed, feeling the edge of the tricorder cut cruelly into his side. He clutched at his head, desperately trying to fight through the waves of unaccustomed emotion, desperately trying to think. This should not be happening! He had felt fear before, had always, always conquered it, through will, through his Vulcan training. Why was it now so impossibly conquering him? It was coursing through him like his own blood, causing his nerve endings to fire their neuro-electric message in paralyzing bursts of terror. Its fire licked at the boundaries of his identity, threatening to immolate him, consume him. There was nothing else in all the universe. Fear! Terror!

 _There is no fear! Do not experience it!_ his brain commanded his body, but that very command was a panic-stricken shout that made calm impossible. He clutched at the fading remnants of his control, sensing a tidal wave of terror approaching. His fingers pressed convulsively into the sides of his face. He could feel the pain, feel his skin tearing and blood starting to flow. He tried desperately to concentrate on that. _No fear!_

But he failed utterly. The adrenalin rushing through his limbs was stronger than his feeble attempt to overcome it. He had no control over what was happening to him, no control over his shaking body. It curled into a fetal position totally against his rapidly-fading rational will.

 _Run!_ his quivering body cried. _Hide!_ it screamed. But he couldn't even coordinate enough to do that. He tried, blindly groping upon the moss for purchase, flopping about like a fish out of water.

He was descending into madness. He hovered just on the edge of the abyss, a very small part of himself still observing the way his conscious perceptions and reasoning abilities were slipping away into the darkness. And just before he tumbled over the edge into complete and overwhelming terror, he cast the only life line he had into the air, out of the darkness and into the light. _Jim!_ he cried. _Jim, help me!_ Then he was falling, falling, falling....

 

 

Kirk awakened with a start, the sound of his own name ringing in his ears. Without taking the time to orient himself, he instantly rolled into a defensive crouch, scanning all about for danger, hands extended to grapple with whatever threatened.

But nothing threatened. Nothing to account for the fear that filled him, making his chest heave and his hands tremble. He swallowed hard, tried to moisten his bone-dry mouth, and fought to think through the panic consuming his brain.

What had happened? There wasn't any reason to be so frightened. Was this the evidence of the local legend? Beyond that, where was Spock? The terror coursing through him matched his worry for the lover who was no longer by his side.

Kirk straightened, fighting to fill his lungs with air, clenching his hands into hard fists.

"Spock!" he shouted. Then, bringing his hands to his mouth to direct his urgent call, "Spock!"

There was no answer. But Kirk knew with an absolute certainty that somehow Spock was in trouble, and that he had managed to relay a mental call for help. It had happened once before, when Kirk's life was threatened. Now, Kirk wondered with dread what had happened to his lover.

He swallowed against the tightness in his throat. So this was what Bob Wesley had been talking about. Unease, hell! More like the unnamed emotion each soldier experienced before going into battle for the first time. Gut-wrenching, yes. Turned his insides into jelly. But he'd had more practice conquering this feeling than almost any other, and it was possible, just barely possible to turn away from the compelling pull of where they had parked, and safety, to look around for any sign of Spock.

Almost without his conscious volition, he began to walk forward, then to run, pulled across the ruins to the back of the site where the largest mound towered. He took the adrenalin pumping through him and used it to direct his anxious eyes, add speed to his hastening feet. He burst from around the obstruction of a still standing wall, and instantly sighted the smudge at the base of the mound. It had to be....

It was. Spock lay in a haphazard heap upon the ground, flat on his back, one arm flung out at right angles to his body, the other curled upon his chest, his legs bent and drooping to the side. Kirk skidded to a halt before him, on his knees and reaching for the throat pulse point with trembling fingers even before he had a chance to look at his lover's face.

"Spock," he whispered, reassured by the heartbeat he found, frightened by the pulse that was too rapid even for a Vulcan. Frightened too by the way Spock's chest was heaving, and the twitching of his arms and legs. Spock's body was running an enormous, draining, titanic race, putting forth its ultimate effort, all while lying with deadly pallor upon the turf.

"Spock!" he said, stronger, and slapped his lover across the face, wincing when he pulled his hand back smeared with green blood.

Spock's head rolled upon the turf, from one side to the other. Then, his eyelids flickered. But his eyes never opened. "Jim...," he rasped, and turned over onto this side with a groan, his body curling in upon itself as he clutched himself in trembling agony.

"Spock, come on, you've got to get up," Kirk urged, gripping one shoulder hard and shaking. "We've got to get out of here."

"Find... fear," Spock panted in reply. His legs moved convulsively upon the ground, like a marathon runner staggering through the very last stages of the race. He was sweating, and Kirk had to lean down close to hear the barely audible whisper.

"What, Spock, find what? Come on, tell me," Kirk urged.

Spock's mouth contorted with effort as he forced the words out. "Find... a mechanism that...."

But it was too much. Kirk found himself staring into the slack features of an unconscious face. "Spock!" he shouted, shaking him roughly, fear mingling with unreasonable anger. "Spock!"

But Spock did not respond. Kirk sat back on his heels, gulping. Whatever it was that was affecting him had influenced Spock in a totally different way. Where he was dealing with fear that he was familiar with, and could conquer, the alien influence had thrown Spock into unconsciousness. And was doing who knew what to his overloading system.

Would removing Spock from the Har be enough to break him away from the influence of... whatever it was? Carrying Spock's heavy body back to the car would take too long, and he might not have time. Given his own condition, he might not have the strength to do it, either.

How much stress could the Vulcan heart withstand? Kirk anxiously wondered, remembering Sarek's surgery. Already Spock's face and hair were drenched with sweat, rivulets were running down the side of his face to puddle on the moss. And Spock hadn't considered flight an option. He'd said find it. Find what?

Kirk stood and looked around. Tried to think. It was hard to think, to push through the clinging folds of adrenalin, and the shaking of his body that rooted him to the ground. Be logical! he admonished himself. Think! Damnit, you've been scared before. Push through it. Push through it!

It was incredibly hard to do. But he wasn't going to lose Spock now, not when he and Spock had just found each other, not when he was on the best fucking shore leave he had ever had. Determination welled up, matching the fear, and in the end it was a peculiar sort of anger against fate, mixed with his fear for Spock, that broke through the paralysis that claimed him. Kirk straightened with his head almost clear, and his hands almost steady.

Where to look? And what was he looking for? Something that could generate enough power to.... But this was an alien technology. It could be anything! Look like anything!

With renewed panic, he swept his gaze frantically over the expanse of the ruins. It would take hours, maybe days to search through them all. Calm down! he told himself sternly. _Use some of those meditation techniques Spock's been teaching you. Separate your mind from the reactions of your body. There isn't any reason to be afraid!_

It wasn't easy. For the first time in his life, Kirk wished he were Vulcan, and could simply ignore the input of his trembling body the way he had seen Spock ignore pain. But if he were, he suddenly realized, he'd be in just the shape Spock was now. Thank God he wasn't Vulcan. Spock was depending on him.

He took a deep steadying breath, and once again forced himself to think. Where was the logical location for some ancient artifact that could generate the attack?

The answer was obvious, and in the same instant that the thought formed Kirk was sprinting across the hard-packed ground to the ceremonial building. The closer he got to it the harder it was to run. His pace slowed, from an all out effort, to a jog, to a walk. It felt like he was slipping through mud, as if his legs were leaden weights that he had no energy to lift.

Panting, he had to stop, bent over his legs, hands on knees, heaving for air. But if his body rebelled, his mind rejoiced. He must be on the right track. Straightening, Kirk forced himself to go on.

He collapsed next to the low wall he and Spock had jumped over to get to the inside chamber. He could feel the fierce pounding of his heart in his chest, heard its echo thrumming in his ears. He'd never been this scared, never! He'd always been able to control the weakness in his knees, the trembling limbs, even that first time as an ensign when he'd been ordered into battle. Now he didn't even know if his legs would support his weight anymore.

Forcing himself to straighten, Kirk discovered that they didn't. Grabbing the top of the wall as he fell, he just managed to lunge over it. He cursed his weakness, unable to resist the relentless assault on his body that robbed it of strength.

He crawled the rest of the way into the chamber, propelled by grim determination alone. The etched messages of an ancient people swam into view. The archeologists, Kirk thought hazily. They would never think of looking beyond the hieroglyphics, never think of destroying them. That's why nothing's ever been found....

 _I don't give a damn about it!_ he thought fiercely, calling up anger to give him strength. He reached for the largest rock he could see, rose to his knees and brought it over his head. He sent it crashing down onto the figures on the wall. _I don't give a damn!_

The wall caved in after only three tries. Gasping, Kirk blinked the rock dust from out of his eyes, and squinted to peer inside the cavern that had been hidden for so long.

It was like a sealed tomb, the dimensions of a coffin. And the two chillingly familiar blackened globes, their surfaces pitted and scarred, had been funeral biers for the incomprehensible beings who had once lived within their fathomless depths. The life of the beings who had existed within had gone long ago.

But something still sizzled within this silent tomb. Next to the globes was a much smaller cube, flickering on and off with a bluish light, emitting an electrical static charge that filled the small space and made the hair on Kirk's hands stand on end. It was terrifying, and Kirk knew without a doubt that he had found the reason for the legend of terror and fear at the Palutin Har.

With trembling hands, he reached out and picked it up. It fit easily into his palm, featureless, and felt cool despite the impression of electrical heat it gave. How could he turn it off?

An image of Spock lying lifeless at the foot of the mound returned to him, and gave him the answer. Like this! he raged, and spun to hurl the hissing cube against the rock wall.

It hit the wall with a resounding Crack!, and fell misshapen to the floor. It sputtered and dimmed, almost as if it were struggling for life, and Kirk felt the pressure against his chest easing. When the light flickered and went out completely, the fear was suddenly, and completely, gone.

"Thank God," he muttered, and sagged back against the floor. This time, he was trembling with relief. But he was up on his feet in a moment, stepping fiercely on the thing to make sure it stayed inactive. He didn't want to take any chances, not with Spock still unconscious....

On leaden legs Kirk forced himself to run back toward Spock. What could he do if his friend hadn't recovered?

His lover was just stirring into awareness when Kirk collapsed onto his knees beside him. Spock's eyelids flickered, then his gaze slowly settled into focus. "Jim?" he croaked.

"Yeah," Kirk breathed, and slumped back onto his heels. Relief pounded through him like a physical rush that clouded his vision and congested his lungs. Spock was all right.

He blinked hard, fighting his emotions and the aftermath of the adrenalin kick. He felt weak as a kitten.

The Vulcan features were pale and drawn. Spock struggled to sit up. He wiped the sweat from his face on a sleeve almost drunkenly, leaving a trail of green from where his fingernails had cut the skin of his face. He licked his lips before asking weakly, "What did you do? I was...."

Kirk shook his head. "I don't know. Found some real globes behind the pictures on the wall in the ceremonial building. They were empty, dead. But I found something else, too. Small, about so big." He illustrated with two still shaking fingers. "It was glowing, and seemed to scare the hell out of me, so I figured that had to be what had put you under. I smashed it."

Spock winced. Even in his weakened condition he deplored the necessity of damaging a valuable artifact.

Kirk said defensively, "Hell, I had to. You looked pretty far gone; I didn't know how long you'd last." He leaned forward, hands on knees, reminded by his own words that he didn't know how badly Spock was injured. "How are you? What happened?"

"I am perfectly functional," Spock replied, straightening his spine with obvious effort as he sat upon the ground. His voice sounded thin and reedy. "However, I do not remember returning to this position at the base of the hill." He shifted uncomfortably.

"You must have rolled down," Kirk said with concern. "Did you break anything? What hurts?" He started to pat his hands down Spock's arms. His own arms still felt weak from the ordeal.

"Jim!" Spock said testily, shrugging his shoulders in an attempt to shake off the intrusion. Kirk looked at him with a frown, but ignored the protest. He finished with the arms, and moved down to check on Spock's legs.  
Slanted brows contracted with annoyance, "I have not broken anything. I am merely bruised. Please cease this unnecessary action!"

Kirk sat back again, irritation with Spock's attitude warring with genuine concern. Shit, he was just following standard procedure for possible injuries.... "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yes. Your concern is unwarranted. I am not injured." Spock spoke through stiff lips, his gaze fastened on the ground.

"But you must have fallen more than thirty meters, over all those rocks," Kirk argued. "Your face is bleeding...."

"It is nothing," Spock shrugged, and yet he could not hide the resulting grimace that flashed across his features. "I can control my physiological reactions. I am remiss in not having done so already."

"But you were unconscious," Kirk persisted. "I don't know for how long."

"Nevertheless, I do not need to be a subject for your solicitude," Spock said sharply. "We must turn our attention to the discovery of the globes." Spock abruptly turned his head away from his lover's worried eyes. He could not have said `leave me alone' more clearly.

"All right," Kirk gritted, trying hard not to let Spock provoke him into exasperated reply. The ethereal togetherness they had found within the meld was shattered. He had encountered this sort of abruptness from his Vulcan first officer before. Now, Kirk guessed that Spock's instincts told him to recover his composure alone, as he had learned to live his life and overcome its problems alone.

But did Spock really have to close up on him so completely? Couldn't Spock at least try to give a little? This was a two-way street after all. It wasn't enough that Kirk had been scared shitless by the inert form lying on the ground; he'd had to contend with the terrifying effects of that blue glowing thing, too. That trek across the ruins to the building hadn't been easy.

And it wasn't as if this were a planetary survey on an unknown, possibly dangerous world, where they had to control their reactions and go on with business. They weren't captain and first officer here. They had the time to help each other; Kirk would have thought that they both had the desire to help, too.

But Spock either didn't sense his resentment or chose to ignore it. Kirk swallowed hard and forced himself to calm his rising temper. He had to accept this kind of rejection if he were to accept Spock.

He could do that. He might not like it, but he could do it.

Kirk rose, dusting off his knees. Spock followed his actions, a little unsteadily, but Kirk knew better than to offer a supporting arm. "Let's go put whatever I found back into a safe place. Somebody'll want a closer look."

Spock followed him, absolutely stiff, his face a closed off mask of rigid control. The lover of an hour ago had fled as if he had never existed.

They drove back to the city toward the setting sun in silence. Spock had walked resolutely toward the driver's seat, hands folded into fists by his side, but Kirk had stopped him.

"Oh, no you don't, Mister. You just sit."

And after a long moment while they exchanged stony glances, Spock had silently walked to the other side.

Now Kirk drove too fast, propelled by the unexpressed irritation in the vehicle, and by worry at the way Spock sat so stiffly in the passenger seat, eyes focused intently forward. After they passed the salt flats, Spock slowly relaxed, and ended up with his head pressed back against the high seat at an uncomfortable angle. Kirk made no comment, even though he was relieved to see the change. Maybe Spock was coming to terms with whatever was bothering him. Probably, the raw emotion that had been forced upon him. Did he really think that Kirk, his lover, wouldn't understand that? They trusted each other with all that they were within the melds; why couldn't Spock trust him now?

Besides, Kirk thought resentfully, why the hell did Spock succumb to his curiosity and go off exploring alone? Any rookie crewman knew that wasn't a good idea. Blast him and his stupid tricorder. This was supposed to be shore leave, damnit, not a landing party! Didn't Spock care what a shock it had been for Kirk to wake up, terrified, his lover's cry for help ringing through his mind?

The accusation trembled on the tip of Kirk's tongue. He wanted to reproach Spock for his uncaring attitude, he wanted to plainly state his own grievances. But if he did, he knew his words would degenerate into harshness, and he wouldn't be able to keep the anger from his voice. The impulse for immediate action was always strong within him, and though it had helped to shape him into a competent, strong-willed commander, there were times when his impulsive actions also got him into trouble.

He took a sidelong look at his silent lover and deliberately loosened the tight grip he had on the steering lever of the car. Maybe this was one of those times when he should remain silent. What good would it do for him to start talking, or yelling, if Spock wasn't ready to respond?

Kirk's other hand eased up upon the speed control as his agitated thoughts turned from accusation to self-pity. This leave was just getting started. They'd had such a terrific time kicking around the ruins together; and the meld had been perfection, complementing what they'd said and felt with that exquisite mental joining that only the Vulcans knew. Now Kirk flushed when he thought about how open he'd been within the meld, and in the conversation they'd had beforehand. He'd acted like a lovesick, romantic fool, all right, and now Spock was just sitting there, shutting him out.

That angry thought refused to settle in his mind. It contradicted everything he had learned about his lover over the past months. Spock wasn't really shutting him out, Kirk reluctantly told himself, he was just dealing with a highly emotional assault on his psyche the only way he knew how. Really, what had he expected? For Spock to fall blubbering into his arms, looking for comfort? Was that even what he wanted?

No, Kirk thought decisively, shuddering away from that image in his mind. God, no. He wanted Spock just the way he was, strong, and admittedly silent sometimes. Even if he was occasionally a real pain in the ass, even if the way the two of them reacted to events didn't always mesh, well, that was okay. He'd take the lover who had learned to deal with the hurts a universe inflicted upon him any day, over a clinging emotional mess.

So, where did that leave him? Still feeling angry, but understanding why. Wanting to talk, but subduing the impulse because he knew it was better to give Spock a little time. Unseen, Kirk shook his head. God, life was complicated sometimes. Loving a mixed-up Vulcan didn't make it any simpler.

The mountains were a dark bulk looming over the road when Spock finally broke the silence.

"I hypothesize that the hieroglyphic representation of lines over each of the globes stands for a force field that acts upon the emotions."

Kirk glanced at his companion, then quickly looked away. Spock was still staring straight ahead. Okay, if he wanted to talk business, business they would talk. "A force field? Do you think the Preservers were trying to protect themselves from the natives?"

"Or possibly protect the natives from them. To create a barrier, at any rate, between the two cultures."

"And the legend of fear, and treasure," Kirk mused, genuinely intrigued. "It does have a basis in fact." It was easy to speak normally. This was almost like they were conversing on the _Enterprise_.

"Indeed. However, over the years the forcefield malfunctioned, and operates now only sporadically. Unfortunately, we were present to experience its effects when it became functional."

Kirk threw his companion a questioning look. He wanted to ask, `But why did it affect you so differently? Why did it throw you into unconsciousness?' But he didn't. He could already guess the answer. A telepathic being had probably never visited the Palutin Har before. Whatever it was that the Preservers had set up to keep the primitive humans away from their globular sanctuaries, they hadn't anticipated a Vulcan would ever encounter it.

Silence again, although it was a more comfortable silence than before. At least they were talking. The lights of Falfurrias were glowing up ahead. The ground vehicle rushed down the highway, headlights cutting through the darkness. The Palutin Har seemed very far away.

 

 

CHAPTER SIX

"Where's your friend?" It was the same waitress from last night, fingering the keys to the portable comp she carried, inquiring into a personal subject as only a stranger ever can.

"Upstairs sleeping," Kirk answered. Close enough. Spock had stiffly requested privacy for meditation, and Kirk had been happy to give it to him. A little distance between them seemed like a good idea.

But his quasi-truth made the waitress blink, and Kirk had to smile to himself. After their hesitations with this woman last night, `Upstairs sleeping' must have sounded a little blunt. Well, what the hell.

"What's your name?" he asked. If she was going to be playing nursemaid and nosy aunt, he could at least know that.

"Ting." She smiled at him tentatively, the wrinkled skin at the corners of her eyes crinkling even more. "What's yours?"

"Mine is Jim. His...," he deliberately paused, enjoying this new game and waiting to see her reaction. He looked at her from under his eyelashes. It was a technique he'd used for the past twenty years to set female hearts aflutter. He wasn't disappointed. Her weathered smile became distinctly broader. "...is Spock."

"Spock," she repeated. "And Jim. Nice names."

"Yep," he agreed amiably, and leaned back in his chair, the corners of his lips twitching.

"Spock a nice fellow?"

"Most of the time."

"You two having a good time in Falfurrias?"

"Uh-huh. So far." Kirk looked up at her from over steepled hands. He couldn't restrain the smile any more.

"You two looked like you were having a good time last night."

Kirk laughed out loud. "Yes, and most of today was very enjoyable too." It really had been. He was glad she had reminded him of it.

"Spock not eating?"

Kirk shook his head. "Nope, Ting, hard-headed Vulcans can go for days without food, did you know that? I'm frequently reminded. So," he shifted forward and activated the built-in menu, "what's good tonight?"

After she left Kirk looked around. Over in the corner not six meters away three attractive young women were talking over desserts. Probably out for a night on the town, he speculated, and ran a practiced eye from one to the other. The youngest, a blonde with long straight hair, was the prettiest. He'd always had a weakness for blue-eyed blondes, although this one looked a little taller than his preference. He liked them petite.

The brunette in a low-cut red blouse leaned forward to make a point to her two companions, revealing an astonishing amount of bosom. Kirk's eyes riveted on the creamy softness of her breasts, exposed so that he could just make out the upper outline of her nipples. He sucked in his breath. Jeez, it was criminal. If she was out to make a big impression on the men who would inevitably watch her, she was certainly succeeding. And she knew exactly what she was doing when she leaned over, Kirk guessed. All three of them probably knew that he was looking at them.

His guess was confirmed when they rose from the table and self-consciously sauntered in front of his table over to the hotel bar. He watched their deliberately swaying hips with deep appreciation, not bothering to hide his interest. They all had nice legs, too, but he'd have to give the prize to the taller brunette, with the short hair. Her calves were just right. Just the way he liked them.

They settled onto high stools within the archway of the bar, directly in his view. The blonde looked at him and smiled, then flung her hair over her shoulder as she turned back to her companions.

Kirk had many years of interpreting a `come hither' look. He looked down at the table, considering. Spock would probably meditate for hours. He had a long boring evening before him if he didn't take some steps to amuse himself. Did he really want to spend the evening alone, wandering around Falfurrias? Amusement was just a casual walk to the bar and a pair of sparkling eyes away.

He looked back up at where the three women perched on the stools. Each one had her legs crossed, displayed to their best advantage. Shit, they were good looking. Maybe he should just... walk over and talk to them. Get a conversation going. Talk. He didn't have to do anything else. Just to give him something to do tonight.

But Kirk was too honest with himself to believe that facile reasoning. His own habits of a lifetime were difficult to overcome. He'd picked up pretty women in bars and taken them to bed with him more times than he could count. If he took that first step to just `talk', he'd end up with his cock buried in somebody's tight little cunt. For sure.

He took a deep breath, thoughts wavering. It wasn't like he was married. They weren't bonded. No commitments had been made between him and Spock..., except maybe the most important one of all. The silent, unspoken one they'd exchanged every day since they'd first kissed, the one that told of trust, and love. The commitment that led Spock to open to him so completely within their melds.

Resentfully, Kirk planted his elbows on the table and looked at the three women from over his steepled fingers. He sure hoped Spock appreciated what he was giving up here. Loving one of them tonight would have been terrific. He could almost feel the pliant body beneath him, the mounds of breast beneath his seeking tongue. But he wouldn't do it. Goddamnit, he wouldn't do it, not because he didn't want to, he did, but because he wanted not to want to.

Even to him, those words sounded a little ridiculous, and Kirk gave a self-deprecating chuckle just as Ting returned with his appetizer and a drink. "What's so funny?" she asked.

"Life," he said, taking the drink and toasting her with a wry grin. "It plays interesting tricks on us sometimes, doesn't it?" The whiskey tasted just right going down. He set the glass down and looked over at the bar again.

"Oh," she said, comprehension plain upon her face. Arthritic fingers settled a plate in front of him. "Tempted?" she queried.

His startled eyes met hers. He must have been pretty obvious. "I guess," he shrugged.

"Don't be," she advised. "You've got something better."

He shook his head ruefully. "Yeah, I know. But he's not here."

She wiped her hands on her apron. "That's life. Hope you like those crutes. They're real tasty." She walked away.

Spock was sitting up in bed reading when Kirk let himself into their room an hour later. The Vulcan's long legs were stretched out on top of the blankets, and he was wearing long-sleeved Starfleet issue blue pajamas. The hard copy journal he had purchased at the riverside Emporium was in his hands.

"That looks like a good idea," Kirk commented as he walked up to the bed. He looked down at his lover, Spock looked up at him.

"Mind if I join you?" Kirk asked.

"Not at all," Spock said politely, but there was an uncertain light in his eyes.

Kirk disappeared into the bathroom for a while, then emerged clad in his briefs. He climbed into the bed with the novel he'd bought.

"Aunt Teresa says hello," he said, as he adjusted a reading lamp.

"Aunt Teresa?" Spock inquired.

"Our waitress from last night. Her name's Ting, but she reminds me of my Aunt Teresa. A busybody." Kirk eyed Spock speculatively over the top of his book. "She also says that I'm better off with you than with one of the women I could have picked up at the bar."

"Indeed." Spock's eyebrow soared. "I am inclined to deepen my acquaintance with this Ting. She appears to be a person of uncommon good sense."

"Oh, I'm not so sure she's the one with the sense. I'm the one who didn't start a big argument this afternoon."

Spock caught his lower lip between his teeth and looked down. "I am aware that my behavior was provoking."

"Damn right it was. You clammed up like an Aldeberan shellmouth. Tried to pretend I wasn't there." Kirk sat up cross-legged in the bed; his book lay forgotten.

"I did not even inquire after your own well-being." Spock's voice was low.

"You didn't. That's pretty unusual for you. Usually you're on my case about every little landing party scratch. This time you ignored me. I don't like being ignored, Spock." Kirk thought he was doing a good job of holding his emotions in check. He wanted to get through to Spock, but he didn't think losing his temper would help things any. Spock had had enough emotions thrown at him today.

Spock looked up at him, an unexpectedly belligerent look in his eyes. "Although I was remiss in not expressing concern for your well-being, I believe you are failing to take into consideration the effects of the forcefield upon me," he accused, and sat up, stiff backed. "The field worked directly upon my telepathic centers. It imposed the emotions of terror and fear in a raw, unfiltered manner that I found difficult to experience. When the effect was removed, I was... unsettled. I required time, and silence, to readjust to my normal functioning."

"You could have told me that," Kirk charged, not willing to let his surprise over Spock's self-defense defuse his indignation.

Spock opened his mouth for a quick reply, then snapped it shut again. He considered, then said precisely, "You are correct. I did not communicate well."

"Hell, you didn't communicate at all. What did you think I would do, laugh at you? Did you think I wouldn't understand that you were upset?" Kirk looked around the room restlessly. "That's what bothers me the most. You didn't trust me enough to let me see that the field had gotten to you. You were embarrassed. With me! Shit, Spock, I thought we'd gotten over that."

Spock looked at him stubbornly. "I was not embarrassed. I am simply... unused to exposing myself to another. I...."

"Exposing yourself!" Kirk exploded. "If you don't call what we do in the melds exposing yourself, then we're talking two different languages. That's what I did this afternoon at the ruins, when I showed you exactly how I felt about you. I acted like a damn romantic fool, and I sure as hell don't know why now." Flushed, Kirk clenched his fists and looked down at the mattress, searching for more words and unable to find them.

Silence. Then, Spock spoke quietly. "I do not believe that I am the only one who was embarrassed."

Startled, Kirk looked up. Their eyes locked.

A smile started to grow on Kirk's face. "Me too, huh?"

Spock tilted his head. His features softened. "The evidence would seem to support it."

Kirk ruefully shook his head, sighing. "I'll admit it." He looked at Spock expectantly.

"And I will admit I too was somewhat... discomfited."

They stared at one another, mouths quirking. "So, where do we go from here?" Kirk knew where he wanted to go. He'd been thinking about it since this morning.

"Perhaps it would be appropriate for us to `start over'?"

Kirk pretended to consider. "I have a better idea. Let's kiss and make up."

"That would be acceptable."

They leaned forward into a kiss, tentative at first, lips barely brushing. But then Kirk put his hand around the back of Spock's head, and Spock licked his way along the edges of his lover's lips, and suddenly the kiss wasn't tentative at all.

They toppled over onto the bed, shoved books, blankets and sheets aside as they pushed their bodies together, hungry for the contact. Kirk's hands fumbled with the fasteners on Spock's pajama tops even as Spock's fingers slipped impatiently under the elastic of his lover's briefs.

"Get these damn things off," Kirk muttered, and in just seconds they were both naked, pressed against one another again.

They plunged back into a passionate kiss, mouths open, gasping, humping against each other with their hips. Kirk pulled back panting.

"The hell with this," he said, abandoning any ideas of proceeding with their usual foreplay. He ran his hand down the long torso to unerringly grasp his lover's column. "You're hard. I'm hard. Touch me! Feel it!" he demanded, pushing his cock forward. Spock's grip made him pant even harder.

"Let's fuck," Kirk growled, and rolled over on top of his lover.

For long moments they were both caught in a desperate search for rhythm, as they pounded against one another, arms clutching, cocks rubbing, bellies smacking. But it wasn't enough, not nearly enough, so Kirk pulled back, wild-eyed, to reach for the lubricant, and Spock turned over onto his stomach.

He was just lifting his hips when Kirk turned from the nightstand, lubricant in hand. The sight of those white globes presented to him so baldly made Kirk's heart jump in his mouth. This was Spock in his bed, transformed by lust into a sexual being. This was his science officer, presenting his body so submissively. And he, James Kirk, could command satisfaction.

Something primeval sang in him, something primitive and entirely lustful wanted to plunge into Spock, wanted to take him forcefully, definitely, make him entirely his own. Brand him irrevocably with his seed, beyond disagreements, beyond laughing women in bars, beyond life and death and the stars that pulsed in the night. He didn't even try to control the feeling, he let the tide take him, let it sweep him away.

And then Spock turned his head upon the mattress and looked back at him, his gaze as passionate as Kirk himself felt. Spock was heaving air into his lungs in exciting sounding pants, and his buttocks swayed back and forth enticingly as he wordlessly encouraged Kirk to penetrate him.

Kirk groaned, caught in a fierce swell of arousal that swept up from the bottom of his toes and down from the hair on his head to meet in a giant tide of feeling in his cock. He grabbed at his own organ, pulling on it as he walked on his knees to position himself between Spock's legs.

"Want to get fucked?" he growled, and slapped lubricant on his hardness. The sounds of his own words excited him even more. A distant part of him wondered if Spock was excited enough to respond in kind.

He was. "Yes," Spock hissed, and pushed back onto the cream-covered finger that was already seeking entrance to his body. "Come within me. Hard."

"Oh, yes, lover. Hard."

The head of his cock pushed against the winking hole that was the entrance to Spock's body. But before Kirk completely succumbed to the tide, before the waves of his desire caught him and pushed him inside, he paused, and looked down at his organ.

Blood-thickened. Swollen head glistening with the cream. Tip nudging that forbidden, brown-rimmed hole that no one else but he had the right to see. About to plunge where he wanted to be, deep inside Spock, capturing and being captured by his lover....

An irrational surge of jealousy swept through him, and that was the wave that caught and propelled him forward, a wordless cry following his thrust. He wanted to be his cock! He wanted to take Spock!

"Oh, God, you're tight," he moaned, He loved this. No matter how many times he shivered and came in Spock's hand, no matter his excitement when Spock went down on him, this was what he wanted, this was what he craved. Being inside Spock. Shoving his cock up his tight, hot ass. Having the right to penetrate, and dominate, the best, the most wonderful being in the universe.

Feeling the tight Vulcan heat wrap around him. Feeling Spock push back, surging in desire, feeling the rippling clenchings as his lover bore down with his anal muscles around the stiff rod within him. Knowing that Spock loved him, loved cock up his ass, wanted his coolness the way he needed Spock's heat....

"Feel me?" Kirk demanded, panting with his vigorous thrusts. One of his arms wrapped around his lover's chest, the other squeezed the heavy prick.

"Yes," Spock panted. He was up on hands and knees now and his head hung low. His breath was coming in ragged gasps. "Inside me. Jim...."

Kirk lunged forward as far as he could, and hung poised over the long back. "Now I'm inside you," he fiercely whispered into a pointed ear.

Spock moaned. He threw his head back, eyes tightly closed, straining toward his lover mounted above him.

"Squeeze me," Kirk pleaded. "Squeeze all around me. Hold me tight, so I won't ever have to go."

Spock took a deep breath and clenched. Kirk gasped, almost losing his hold upon the narrow shoulder as electric currents of pleasure shot through his body. Spock clenched again, and despite Kirk's best efforts, despite the irrational voice that whispered never to leave, always to stay exactly where he was, he began to thrust again on that last journey to completion.

"Love you," he rasped. His hand abandoned Spock's prick as he pulled back and grabbed at the narrow hips for leverage. He was too excited to worry about Spock coming right now, but out of habit his hands twisted so that his palms pushed against the small of his lover's back, on that peculiarly sensitive erogenous zone that only Vulcans had. Spock hissed with pleasure at the touch, and arched back for more contact.

The movement pushed him even more firmly onto the thrusting, seeking cock. And it was all Kirk needed to push him over the edge. His eyes squeezed shut, his face contorted, he drove as deeply inside of Spock as he could, fingers clutching tightly....

"I'm coming!" he shouted triumphantly. Twice, three, four times he jerked and squirted hotly, each jet of cum a brand that would stay behind when he had to leave. At least, a small connection. His life fluid inside his lover's body.

The last tremors of orgasm shook him, and for a moment he leaned weakly onto the tensed buttocks. But the tenseness reminded him that Spock had not come with him, and with sudden energy, he pulled back, roughly flipped Spock over onto his back, and fell upon the weeping organ with demanding lips and tongue.

The pulsing of Spock's climax against the back of his throat filled him with pride. But it was the uninhibited arching into his mouth, the strangled gasp, `Jim!', and the body beneath his hands sinking into satiation that provided the final satisfaction he had been seeking. He licked the last of the bitter emission from the head of the softening penis, and laid his head on Spock's thigh with a contented sigh.

Spock's big hand came to rest upon his head, and they lay like that for long minutes, in silence. Finally his lover reached for one of the towels they had stacked upon the nightstand, and wordlessly handed it to him.

Kirk wiped himself off without comment, and then moved up to settle next to Spock upon the pillow. "You're fantastic," he said with a kiss.

"And you are," Spock initiated a kiss of his own, "extremely satisfying. Am I more fantastic than," he cocked his head, "the women at the bar?"

Kirk choked back a gurgle of laughter. "I'll never know, will I?"

Spock pulled him close in a possessive embrace. "No, you will not," he said roughly.

Kirk started to thread his fingers through his lover's chest hair, contemplatively. "Are you feeling better now? Did the meditation help?"

"Yes. What I thought would be a lengthy process of rebuilding my shields was actually only the need to accept the intensity of my fear. I do not believe the reintegration would have proceeded so easily without my prior emotional experiences with you."

Kirk hitched up on one elbow, keeping his hand on the warm chest, and smiled down at him. "But I don't scare you shitless."

Spock mock-frowned. "I would not employ such inelegant phrasing. You do not frighten me at all." The frown turned earnest. His hand went up to clutch one muscled bicep. "Except when you put yourself in danger."

Kirk nodded. "Then you know how I felt, when I woke up this afternoon and realized you were gone. Did you know that you reached me, in here?" He tapped the side of his head.

"I had hoped to do so, based on the one other time when we were able to make contact without physical touch." His hand went out to stroke down the side of Kirk's face. "There is a mental link between us that is growing stronger."

"That's good," Kirk whispered. "I want to be linked with you."

It was the closest either of them had come to their earlier declarations, closer than the magic moments they had shared at the Palutin Har. The word `Forever' shone in Kirk's eyes and resonated through Spock's touch. It vibrated in the air between them.

But neither of them spoke. Despite the intensity of the love that he felt at that moment, Kirk still hesitated. He wanted to say `commitment'. He wanted to whisper `bond with me', and witness the happiness grow in his lover's eyes. Already, he'd learned enough from this shore leave to convince him that what he and Spock had together would work, on the ship or off, for the months they'd already had or the years he hoped for. And he could deal with being labeled a lover of men..., he could deal with it, the same way that he had dealt with his fear at the Palutin Har, by pushing his way through.

What counted was this wonderful love they shared. They'd already had it on the ship, nurturing, vibrant..., vitally alive, despite their misunderstandings and their doubts. It was real, this love of theirs, and nothing real was ever perfect. Neither of them were going to change much on this leave: he would still appreciate and be tempted by pretty women, Spock wouldn't easily learn how to automatically, reflexively let his lover share in his life. But the evidence from this night was clear; both of them loved enough to move beyond those problems.

Still, Kirk remained silent. Now wasn't the time. He'd have to be absolutely, one hundred percent certain before he whispered those words to Spock. His lover deserved no less. And it didn't seem right, he told himself, for them to discuss the entwining of their futures here in a hotel room on Fal-T 3. The _Enterprise_ was home, and it should be the _Enterprise_ that would witness the avowal of their long-awaited words. With eight more days of leave on this lovely planet, their real lives seemed far off, a distant dream. And the life he wanted to live with Spock would be real, achingly, beautifully real, a life that would match their love.

Wordlessly, Kirk stared into Spock's eyes, the soft brown depths that he could read so easily. He saw love there, an infinite softening look that he knew had never been directed to anyone else. And though his lover remained as silent as he was himself, the emotional intensity between them was enough. For now.

Sighing, Kirk placed his hand upon Spock's cheek. "You make me believe in God, Spock."

"In what way?" Spock inquired softly.

"How could anyone like you be accidental, just a random happening in an uncaring universe? Impossible." He pressed a kiss on the pale forehead. "You are very, very special."

Spock's hand circled around the back of his lover's neck. "I do not have any doubt in the existence of a Supreme Being. And I am also certain that my own creation was not complete until the day that you were born."

"That's right," Kirk nodded seriously. "We were meant for each other, weren't we?"

They shared another long moment, affirming all the unspoken words that had been expressed between them tonight. Spock leaned forward with a light, closed-mouth kiss, and then they fell apart from each other.

Kirk rolled over in the bed until his groping fingers found his novel. He picked up his pillow from where it had been pushed aside and punched it into shape before settling back into its comfort. He opened his book to the first page before asking, "What are we doing tomorrow?" He was surprised at his absolutely normal tone of voice.

Spock paused while thumbing through his Journal. "We must visit the Natural History Museum and speak to its director. It will undoubtedly be necessary for us to travel back to the Palutin Har to direct the staff to our findings."

Kirk made a face and sighed. He knew they'd have to.

But Spock was continuing. "However, we will rent our own ground vehicle so that you can be certain of returning in time for the second game between the Titan Tornadoes and the Alpha Nu Kings. Rathbar el-Benich would be disappointed if you could not attend."

"Just me?" Kirk questioned.

Spock nodded and gave one of his half-smiles. "I believe that one game was enough to satisfy my interest in Air Hockey, Jim. I will be more than content writing a report of the events that transpired at the ruins."

Kirk smiled back at his lover, immensely happy. How could so much have happened in just two days? Already, they had found their balance. Not the balance they had had before they were lovers, but a new, and better one. They loved each other enough to enjoy this shore leave together, and apart.

He leaned forward to kiss Spock heavily. "I love you," he declared. Spock's satisfied, self-confident smile felt good against his lips.

This was going to work. Their unspoken `forevers' would find expression after all. Despite all that a capricious galaxy could throw at them, ancient boobytraps from a long dead race, or pretty women with come hither looks, this was going to work.

 

 

EPILOGUE

"Captain?"

Kirk looked up from where he was signing the quartermaster's report in the center seat. "Yes, Lieutenant?"

"Message coming in for you, sir. From Commodore Wesley. It's on tape."

"Tape?" Kirk wondered. What was Wesley doing sending him a tape when the _Lexington_ was patrolling in the next quadrant? "Any priority on it, Lieutenant?"

Uhura tapped one finger against the comlink in her ear. "No, sir, marked Personal."

"All right," Kirk sighed, "I'll take it in my quarters." He handed the report back to the yeoman and got up from the command chair, walking stiffly.

Even now, three days after their return from shore leave, he still ached from that mountain climbing expedition with Spock. They'd been crazy to make it an overnighter, and aim for the highest peak. He stretched as the turbolift slid silently down to deck five, and absently rubbed his shoulder. He'd used muscles he hadn't known he had.

A few other muscles had gotten quite a workout too. Kirk smothered his grin as he stepped out of the lift into a steady stream of just-before-shift-change traffic. That last night in the hotel, despite their fatigue from the climbing, they'd stayed up till dawn in a marathon session he wouldn't soon forget. Talk about Vulcan stamina. God, what a night.

What a shore leave. The sex had been terrific, but the companionship had been even better. He'd never had a leave like it.

And the Tornadoes winning the championship in the fifth and deciding game had really capped it off. Having Spock want to accompany him back to the bar for the final game had been even better. He'd been proud to be seen with his dignified lover.

And Spock hadn't even objected when Kirk whooped and hollered after the Tornadoes scored the winning goal, grabbed him by the shoulders and kissed him soundly. Spock had kissed right back, too, and rubbed his bewhiskered cheek against Kirk's own smooth one in a brief but definite congratulatory hug.

Fondly, Kirk remembered the beard. By the tenth day of their leave it had filled out into a respectable growth, and Spock had looked terrific. Sexy. If they'd had a little more time Kirk would have tried to coax him into trimming it, just so, but even left in its natural state, the wild look the beard gave him was a delicious counterpoint to his Vulcan's controlled demeanor. Sexy as hell. He'd watched with real regret as Spock finally removed it just hours before they beamed up.

What a Vulcan, Kirk thought tenderly as he entered his quarters. It was hard to believe that Spock was going to unbend enough to actually escort Irini Hunyady down the aisle tomorrow evening. He'd do it in proper Vulcan fashion, Kirk was sure, and would provide some `logical' reason for participating in such a blatantly emotional ceremony. But now Kirk was really looking forward to the wedding; to see Spock in such a setting.... It sent a thrill of excitement, almost of danger, up Kirk's spine.

Someday, they'd do it themselves. Maybe someday soon. He'd come really close to saying something in Falfurrias. He could just imagine how happy Spock would be, how happy they'd both be. Smiling, Kirk shook his head as he crossed the room. God, how he loved to make his lover happy. The smiles that Spock gave him within the meld were the most precious gifts he'd ever received.

Kirk settled gingerly into his chair behind the desk and activated the com line. Wesley's craggy features filled the small viewscreen. The Commodore looked years older than when the two of them had last talked, only weeks ago. Frowning, Kirk shifted forward in his chair in sudden concern.

 

 

Trying to move quietly, Spock entered his captain's quarters through the connecting bathroom. A critical experiment in the bio-engineering lab had gone awry, and kept Spock on duty until almost midnight. Now, even though it would have been logical to sleep apart, Spock sought his captain's bed. After sleeping together for so many nights on Fal-T 3, his solitary bunk was uncomfortable. A blatantly emotional reaction, unfortunately, but undoubtedly true. Logic required the acknowledgment of truth. And perhaps Jim would still be awake.

But his lover was sleeping. Puzzled, Spock looked at him as he sprawled on his back across the red-speckled bedspread. Jim was fully clothed, and had obviously fallen asleep before he could turn down blanket and sheet. His head was cast back hard against the pillow, giving his body a curiously tense look. One arm was flung across his forehead, the other curled into a fist by his side. While Spock watched, Kirk shifted restlessly in his sleep, and murmured.

What could have compelled Jim to seek his bed fully clothed, Spock wondered? Eyes wandering, his attention was captured by the blue glow of the computer screen on Kirk's desk. It was still activated, casting a hard, metallic light and eerie shadows on the objects in the room. On his lover.

Frowning, Spock walked to the office area to deactivate the machine. But as his finger hovered over the console, Kirk's voice stopped him.

"Leave it on, Spock." His voice sounded infinitely weary.

Spock walked back to the grill separating office from bedroom. "For what purpose?"

"So that you can see," Kirk appeared to choke, "a message I got. From Bob Wesley."

Spock's eyebrow rose. "Commodore Wesley? Have we received new orders?"

Kirk sat up in bed and dropped his feet to the floor. He laughed bitterly. "Yeah. You could say that."

Kirk looked up at where his lover stood, uncertain, framed in the doorway by the harsh light of the computer screen. He looked for a long moment, then slowly rose from the bed, tugging on his tunic as he did so. Holding Spock's puzzled gaze for every step of the way, he deliberately walked over to him.

He stopped when their faces were only centimeters apart. "You do know that I love you, don't you?" he asked intensely.

Spock blinked. What could Commodore Wesley have to do with the declaration of their emotions? "Yes. As I love you."

"I know. Nothing's going to change that. So now," he took a deep breath and paced deliberately over to the computer, "look at this."

The image of Commodore Wesley appeared.

"Jim," the image began, "first, I want to congratulate you and Mr. Spock on that discovery on Fal-T 3. You've got my entire science staff wanting to take a leave of absence to go do research on the Preservers. I should have known that there was something worth hiding at the ruins, but," Wesley shrugged, "I had Jeanine with me, you know. I just wanted to get her away. Anyway, congratulations."

The Commodore paused then, and looked down at the surface of the desk where he was sitting. When he looked up at the screen again his face was bleak. "The rest of what I have to say.... I wanted you to hear this from me, Jim, before the grapevine got to you. You're getting this news taped and not live because the _Lexington’s_ been ordered off patrol, back to Earth." He laughed without humor. "They've taken her away from me, Jim. That's not what they say, of course. It's a kick up the ladder, more salary, a cushy job at Starfleet Command, but...," he took a deep, loud breath, "no more _Lexington_.

"And Jeanine and I both agree that it's got something to do with our marriage. Nobody's talking, admitting to a thing, but I just don't buy into coincidences. This has happened because I married one of my officers, and there's not a damned thing I can do about it. I don't even have a choice." He shifted uneasily. "Not that I would even know how to make one."

Wesley stared at the screen for a long moment. "Listen, I know it's none of my business, but I got the feeling you were fishing the last time we talked. If I'm way off base, well, then I'm wrong. But I hope you do have somebody. But Jim, if you were thinking of marrying her, forget it. Not if you want to keep your command. Those tight-assed admirals back in 'Frisco won't make an issue of it, but I'd bet that in a couple of months you'd be sitting in an office right next to me, stuck on Earth."

Wesley leaned forward and pointed a finger at the screen. "Don't even live with her, for God's sake. Somebody at the Admiralty's got it in their mind that we've got to march down the straight and narrow now that we've got so many non-humans on the starships. That means adhering to the letter of the law. You know, the ones about fraternization that never get enforced? I wouldn't risk it. Not if you love her, and want to stay with her."

The commodore sat back heavily. "That's all I've got to say. Thought I'd warn you. See you sometime." The image faded and the screen became blank.

There was a long moment of silence. Kirk remained standing by the side of the desk, his hands tightly clenched, head down. Spock lifted his head and stared at the wall opposite the computer.

Finally, unmoving, Spock said, "Nothing has changed. We will continue as we have been." His words sounded abnormally loud in the stillness of the room.

Kirk gazed at his profile. "Is that what you want?" he asked intensely.

Spock turned toward him. "No," he said simply.

Kirk took one step toward him. "It's not all that I want either. Lately, I've been thinking.... The two of us....

Spock interrupted him, his words almost harsh. "The two of us belong on the _Enterprise_. Our lives are here. I will not risk the possibility of either of us being transferred off the ship." He took a step toward Kirk, and spoke fiercely. "I do not wish to be separated from you."

Kirk did not flinch from the possessive passion in the Vulcan eyes. "Love, I know. Neither of us wants to leave the ship. I knew you'd feel that way too. But I want you to know something. I need to say it out loud." His hand went out to tenderly cup the pale cheek. "I want you to know that I have been thinking about... us. About bonding. About marrying you." He looked at Spock wistfully.

Spock closed the gap between them, and automatically their arms went about each other. "I have been having similar thoughts. After our leave together, it seemed appropriate...."

"Yes," Kirk breathed, and looked his lover full in the face, "life together with you seems very appropriate to me."

Spock caressed him with his eyes. "But it is not yet the right time," he whispered. "It is illogical to force a plant into early bloom, when the passage of time will produce a healthier, lovelier flower. When the time is right, we will know."

"But what do we know right now?" Kirk questioned, his sad eyes searching his lover's face. "All I know is that I love you."

"And that you are still uncomfortable with our bisexuality," Spock added, gently.

"And that we still have problems communicating sometimes," Kirk agreed. "But I still love you. And you love me. Despite it all."

"Yes," Spock whispered, and shivered within their embrace. He rested his head next to Kirk's, seeking comfort. "I love you. That is one thing of which I am sure."

They swayed against one another, pressing close, in an elemental, non-sexual need for the comfort of touch. Kirk's arms tightened around the slim waist, coming to rest lightly on the small of his lover's back, and Spock's hand went up to thread possessively through the strands of golden hair. The forgotten computer screen cast its eerie glow over the two lovers, who were forged together by love, and regret, and promises that were yet unspoken.

Kirk turned his head and whispered, "Will you come to bed with me? Will you meld with me? Let's share this...."

"Yes...," Spock breathed. "Yes...."

Only the night witnessed their joining.

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Heart’s Delight first appeared in Counterpoint 9, published by Emily Adams and Marion Flanders, and was reprinted in Setting Course: the Jenna Sinclair Collection, published by Kathleen Resch. Many thanks to the editors for editing help.


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